No 

PRIVATE    LIBRARY 

I 
JOFJ | 

W.  H.  CONR.fl 

PASADENA,  CAL. 


THE  SELECT  NOVELS 

OF 

MARION    HARLAND. 

1.— ALONE. 
2.— HIDDEN  PATH. 
3.— MOSS  SIDE. 
4.— NEMESIS. 
5.— MIRIAM. 
6.— SUNNYBANK. 
7.— RUBY'S  HUSBAND. 
8.— AT  LAST. 
9.— MY  LITTLE  LOVE. 
10.— TRUE  AS  STEEL.  (New.) 

"  The  Novels  of  Marion  Harland  are  of  surpassing  ex- 
cellence.   By  intrinsic  power  of  character-draw- 
ing and  descriptive   facility,  they  hold 
the  reader's  attention   with  the 
most      intense     interest 
and     fascination." 

All  published  uniform  with  this  volume.    Price  $1.50 

each,  and  sent  free  by  mail,  on  receipt  of  price. 

BY 

G.    W.    CARLETON    &    CO.,    Publishers, 
New  York. 


MOSS-SIDE. 


MARION  HARLAND, 


HrDtXIS    PATH,"   "NKMESIS,"     "MIRIAM,"    "THE  EMPTI  HEAB'V 
GAM-NEK,"    "SUNXYBAXK,"    "HUSBANDS  AND  HOMES," 
D3l'fc  HUSBAND,"   "PHESUE'S  TEMPTATION,"  KIU 


"  Love  took  up  the  harp  of  Life,  and  smote 

On  all  the  chords  with  might,— 
Bmote  the  chord  of  Self,  that  trembling  passed 
In  music  out  of  sight." 


NE  W   YORK: 

Carleton,  Publisher,  Madison  Square, 

LONDON :    S.  LOW,  SON  &  CO. 
MDCCCLXXXV. 


KHTIMD  «e«ording  to  Act  of  Conyew  ir  *»»•  w  1*4.  V 
DERBY   *  JACKSON, 

at  'b    iKitrict  Court  of  the  United  SUte»,  for  the  Sonta> 


TROW'S 
PRINTING  AND  BOOKBINDING  Co., 

PRINTERS, 
205-213  East  iith  St., 

NEW   YORK. 


MOSS-SIDE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

"  A.RE  you  aware,  Louise,  that  in  all  our  correspondence  about 
this  important  affair,  and  in  our  lengthy  conversation  this  after- 
noon there  has  been  signal  neglect  of  the  happy  man  of  your 
choice — that  I  ani  ignorant  even  of  his  name  ?" 

"  Ah  1  that  was  rather  a  careless  omission  on  my  part.  See  1 
this  is  May  Seaton's  present,  the  work  of  her  own  fingers — the 
dear  little  creature  1  Does  it  not  remind  you  of  her  ?  She  is 
to  be  one  of  our  travelling  party  ;  I  wrote  to  you  to  that  effect, 
I  believe  ?" 

"You  did." 

I  admired  the  exquisite  embroidery  of  the  satin  mouchoir-case, 
the  quilted  lining  of  blue  silk  ;  inhaled  the  verbeua  perfume 
that  lingered  within  its  depths  ;  wondering,  all  the  while,  at  the 
bride's  forgetfulness  of  my  question. 

We  had  been  school-fellows — Louise  Wynne  and  I  ;  had 
passed  two  happy,  busy  years  at  Mrs.  W 's  celebrated  sem- 
inary, and  being  room-mates,  must,  of  necessity,  have  learned  to 
love  or  hate  each  other  with  our  whole  hearts.  We  preferred  the 
more  amiable  course,  and  although  we  had  never  met  until  now, 
since  the  day  of  our  graduation,  the  intimacy  had  sustained  no 


2017322 


6  MOSS-SIDE. 

rupture  Our  letters,  loug  and  frequent,  had  kept  each  advised 
of  the  other's  movements  and  undiminished  affection.  It  is  true 
I  knew  nothing  of  her  attachment  to  her  successful  suitor,  or 
indeed  that  such  a  being  existed,  previous  to  her  announcement 
of  the  anticipated  marriage  ;  but  this  was  an  offence  easily  par- 
doned— the  more  easily,  since  she  had  not  forgotten  our  ancient 
compact  concerning  the  bridesmaid's  office  ;  one  which  is  invari- 
ably entered  into  by  "  inseparable"  school-girls,  and  very  rarely 
respected  in  the  time  of  trial.  Louise  never  overlooked  a  friend 
or  broke  an  engagement,  and  this  is  the  explanation  of  my  pre- 
sence in  her  chamber  on  this  summer  day,  far  away  from  my 
southern  country  home,  the  roar  of  a  thronged  city  coming  in  at 
our  windows,  and  immediately  about  us,  tokens  of  the  near 
approach  of  some  gala  occasion. 

"  Herbert  and  myself  planned  our  route,"  continued  Louise. 
"  I  sent  you  the  programme  ;  the  White  Mountains  and  Niagara 
— not  an  original  one,  by  any  means,  but  we  could  think  of  no 
other  that  promised  equal  gratification  to  all  of  us  ;  Herbert 
being  the  only  person  who  has  been  over  the  ground  before. 
We  concluded,  however,  to  confer  with  yourself  and  your 
brother,  before  making  an  irreversible  decision.  If  you  can  pro- 
pose any  novelty  in  such  an  excursion,  or  if  you  prefer  a  visit  to 
Saratoga  or  Newport,  we  will  cheerfully  alter  our  course." 

I  assured  her  of  our  perfect  satisfaction  in  the  existing 
arrangement. 

"  I  hope  you  like  large  parties,  in  or  out  of  season,"  was  her 
I  cxt  remark,  as  she  drew  from  the  wardrobe  the  bridal  dress 
tnd  veil.  "  Herbert  does  not  favor  this  one  of  my  whims.  His 
taste  would  be  for  a  morning  ceremony,  travelling-dresses  and  a 
family  breakfast ;  but  these  hum-drum,  economical  proceedings 
do  not  tally  with  my  notions." 

It  certainly  was  not  suggested  by  her  lively  tone,  or  anything 
,n  her  behavior  and  countenance  ;  yet  as  she  stood  brushing 


MOSS-BIDE.  7 

lightly  the  flounces  of  her  wedding-robe,  the  veil,  with  its  chaplet 
of  orange  blossoms  placed  upon  her  head,  that  I  might  better 
observe  its  length  and  the  beauty  of  its  texture,  I  thought  hotf 
pagan  priests  decked  the  choicest  of  their  flock  with  ribbons  and 
garlands,  and  then  led  her  to  the  sacrificial  altar. 

"  The  ceremony  will  be  a  bore — it  always  is,"  said  Louise,  still 
busy  with  the  lace  and  flowers.  "  A  large  assembly  is  the  only 
thing  that  effectually  relieves  its  tedious  formality.  There  are 
not  enough  people  in  town  to  crowd  the  rooms,  so  we  shall 
be  comfortable,  hot  as  the  weather  is." 

"  Who  will  compose  your  travelling-party  ?"  asked  I. 

"  We  shall  number  six  in  all.  You  and  Herbert,  May  and 
that  handsome  brother  of  yours — by  the  way,  how  very  hand- 
some he  is  1" 

"Yourself  and  Mr.  Blank,"  I  interrupted,  laughing.  "You 
did  not  finish  your  answer  to  my  inquiry." 

She  colored,  but  not  with  the  unbidden,  rapid  rose-tint  I  had 
expected  to  see. 

"  Have  I  not  told  you  his  name  yet  ?  The  truth  is  we  have 
had  so  much  else  to  talk  about.  There  is  nothing  particularly 
euphonious  or  aristocratic,  either  in  the  praenomen  or  patronymic 
of  the  gentleman  in  question.  He  answers  to  the  address  of 
David  Wilson." 

It  was  not  a  patrician  title  ;  I  would  have  chosen  Mordauut 
or  Howard  in  preference  for  the  high-bred  girl  who  was  to 
assume  it,  yet  it  was  not  this  trifling  disappointment  that  embar- 
rassed me  into  saying,  as  if  trying  the  effect  of  the  sound  upon 
my  ears,  "  Louise  Wilson." 

"  For  Heaven's  sake  none  of  that  1"  broke  impatiently  from 
her  ;  the  next  second,  she  bent  down  and  kissed  me.  "  Don't 
think  me  cross,  dear  ;  but  to  you  I  would  be  forever  the  Louisa 
Df  our  other  days.  You  can  remember  even  the  dead  with  love 
—  can  you  not,  Grace  ?" 


8  MOSS-SIDE. 

"  1  can  never  forget  what  you  have  been — what  jou  are  no* 
to  me,"  I  answered.  *'  Do  not  hint  that  you  must  cease  to  be 
my  dearest  friend,  although  you  love  another  more." 

She  kissed  me  again,  because  I  proffered  the  pledge  of  con- 
gtancy,  but  her  lips  were  cold  and  hard,  and  she  went  to  thf 
tuble,  bestrewed  with  her  bridal  gifts. 

"  I  have  forgotten  whether  you  ever  saw  my  eldest  brother," 
she  said  interrogatively. 

"  I  have  never  met  him,  I  am  sorry  to  say.  He  was  in  South 
America  most  of  the  time  we  spent  together  at  school." 

"  0,  yes  !  I  recollect  1  He  is  living  here  now.  We  speak  of 
you  so  often  and  familiarly,  that  he  feels  well  acquainted  with 
you,  so  you  must  not  be  shy  to  him.  You  will  like  him,  I  am 
sure.  He  is  only  my  adopted  brother,  you  know  ?" 

"  Yes — he  is  a  cousin,  I  believe  ?" 

"  Not  even  that — but  the  nephew  of  my  father's  first  wile. 
He  was  a  widower  when  he  married  my  mother.  Herbert  was 
orphaned  in  his  infancy,  and  his  aunt  promised  her  dying  sister 
to  rear  him  as  her  own  son,  an  engagement  which  my  father, 
after  her  death,  still  felt  himself  bound  to  fulfill.  He  has  had  a 
collegiate  education,  and  chose  the  mercantile  profession  of  his 
own  will.  They  say  he  is  doing  well." 

She  said  all  this,  as  if  reciting  a  lesson  learned  by  rote  ;  a 
very  different  tone  from  that  in  which  she  generally  alluded  to 
her  favorite  brother.  I  noticed,  moreover,  that  confusion, 
instead  of  order,  marked  the  progress  of  her  nands  over  the 
glittering  silver,  the  jewel-caskets,  and  the  hundred  nameless 
articles  of  bijouterie  she  pretended  to  arrange.  Suddenly,  hef 
arms  fell  to  her  side.  Some  strained  cord  had  snapped  asun 
der. 

"  I  am  tired  !"  she  said,  fretfully.  "  May  I  sit  here,  Grace, 
as  I  used  to  in  the  times  of  study-headaches  ?" 

She  dragged  a  cushion  to  my  feet,  as  she  spoke,  and  throwing 


MOSS-SIDE.  9 

ueraelf  upon  it,  laid  her  head  in  my  lap  Th<  strange  aching 
at  my  heart  would  not  let  me  speak,  but  from  the  force  of  an 
old  and  almost  forgotten  habit,  I  unbound  her  hair  and  passed 
my  fingers  through  and  through  the  heavy  locks,  a  kind  of  loving 
mesmerism,  that  of  yore  had  always  proved  efficacious  in  quelling 
pain  and  nervousness.  We  sat  thus  for  a  silent  half-hour 
Louise  might  have  been  supposed  to  slumber,  except  that  no 
healthy  sleep  was  ever  so  motionless,  so  fearfully  still.  For 
myself,  I  lapsed  into  my  inveterate  practice  of  dreaming.  All 
my  surroundings  were  unfamiliar.  The  furniture  of  the  apart- 
ment was  splendid  in  comparison  with  that  of  my  simple  room  at 
home,  and  scattered  everywhere  were  garments,  that  to  my  eyes, 
were  fit  for  the  wear  of  royalty  itself ;  silks,  that  re-produced 
the  shifting  hues  of  the  rainbow  and  the  sunset  clouds  ;  other 
and  lighter  fabrics,  whose  folds  blossomed  into  bouquets  of 
imperial  exotics,  or  were  overrun  with  graceful  vines  ;  muslins, 
fleecy  and  sheer  as  morning  mists.  Even  the  friend  at  .my 
feet  was  not  a  reality.  I  saw  not  an  inch  below  the  surface 
upon  which  the  world  might  gaze  ;  whereas  my  Louise  was  a 
frank,  affectionate  child,  who  had  slept  in  my  bosom  and  wept 
away  every  grief  in  my  embrace.  In  my  bewildered  musings 
now,  I  seemed  to  see  her  attempting  to  lift  a  ponderous  iron  gate 
to  bar  my  entrance  to  her  heart,  the  threshold  worn  by  my  foot- 
prints. This  thought  had  come  to  me  during  her  labored  recital 
of  Herbert  Wynne's  story,  and  when  her  arms  gave  way,  I  could 
imagine  that  I  saw  the  fall  and  heard  the  crash.  The  dull, 

eavy  roar  without,  never  waxing  louder  or  more  faint,  like  the 
incessant  roar  of  a  cataract  through  a  stagnant  atmosphere, 

nade  my  mind  wander  still  more.  I  knew  little  then  of  tha 
bending  backs  and  breaking  hearts  ;  the  toiling  arms  and  tor1 
tured  brains  ;  of  the  battles  for  life,  the  groans  of  the  van« 
quished,  the  shouts  of  the  victorious  that  make  up  that  tumult 
mighty,  yet  monotonous — a  sound  that  must  reach  Heaven's 
1* 


10  MOS8SIDE. 

high  gate  as  a  sigh  from  the  grieving  earth  ;  but  as  I  listened 
it  almost  stifled  me. 

"  Grace  !" 

The  voice  was  hollow  and  broken,  but  it  was  her  own  at  last, 
and  my  heart  leaped  to  hear  it. 

"  My  own  Louise  1" 

"  I  am  very  miserable  1     Pity  me  1" 

"  I  iove  you,  dearest  1" 

I  drew  her  nearer  to  me,  and  calling  her  by  all  the  winning 
names  our  affection  had  taught  me,  assured  her  of  my  sym- 
pathy in  every  sorrow,  my  willingness — my  anxiety  to  aid  her 
by  every  means  this  affection  could  invent. 

"  I  need  no  help — I  ask  none  !  I  ask  nothing  of  any  human 
being  besides  yourself.  I  do  say  to  you — pity  me  1" 

"  And  why,  dear  Louise  ?" 

She  said  nothing  for  a  time,  and  when  the  words  came,  they 
*ere  not  a  reply  to  mine. 

"  Grace  !  do  you  believe  in  a  God  ?" 

I  could  scarcely  answer,  so  great  was  my  astonishment. 

"  Certainly  1     Who  can  doubt  this  ?" 

« i  pi 

"  Louise  I  you  are  mad  I" 

"  I  am  sane  I  If  I  believed  there  was  an  All-seeing  Eye, 
rhich  would  witness  and  cause  to  be  recorded  the  tremendous 
r.n  I  shall  coolly  commit  in  three  days  more,  do  you  think  that  I, 
daring  as  I  am,  would  risk  the  consequences  of  such  an  act  f 
My  father  and  my  mother  are  members  of  a  Christian  church. 
The  God  of  the  one  is  Gold,  that  of  the  other,  Society.  I  dis- 
dain hypocrisy — therefore  I  declare  that  I  have  none  1" 

"  Yet  there  was  a  time  " —  I  commenced. 

"  I  know  I  I  know  !  I  am  changed  in  everything  since  then, 
Grace.  0,  darling  !  those  happy  golden  hours  !" 

I  was  glad  to   see  the  tears— a  fiery  delnge  though  thej 


MOSS-SIDE.  11 

were     She  checked   them  with  a  suddenness   that  surprised 
me. 

"  I  left  school  and  came  home  with  a  mind  full  of  undefined 
yet  enchanting  pictures  of  the  free,  joyous  life  in  store  for  me. 
Society,  as  seen  in  chance  glimpses  from  the  nursery  and  in  my 
vacations  was  a  flashing,  noisy — merrily  noisy  stream,  upon  which 
my  barque  would  bound  without  fear  of  wreck  or  danger.  My 
debut  was  a  '  sensation,'  so  my  mother  informed  me  with 
natural  pride,  and  from  that  moment  began  the  development  of 
her  plans.  Do  you  suppose  that  the  Circassian  slave  likes  the 
ring  of  her  gilded  fetters  better  than  the  wretch  in  the  galleys 
does  the  grating  of  his  rusty  irons  ?" 

"  Both  servitudes  are  galling,"  I  said.  "  His  is  no  worse  than 
htrs,  I  should  think." 

"  That  is  because  you  are  unsophisticated.  My  mother  would 
gay  that  the  seraglio  fetters  are  to  be  coveted  ;  that  in  this  civil- 
ized land,  in  this  Bible-reading,  God-fearing  age,  woman's  ears 
should  desire  no  more  acceptable  music  than  the  clank  of  tho 
manacles  that  confine  her  to  the  prescribed  pace  upon  the  turf 
of  fashionable  life.  But  hear  of  my  heinous  transgression — my 
outrageous  sedition  1  I  was  involved  in  an  imprudent  love- 
Bcrape — thus  my  mot  .er  termed  it — before  I  had  been  '  out '  a 
month,  and  to  the  h  )ly  horror  of  the  virtuous  Mrs.  Grundys  of 
our  set — with  one  w  x>  was  not  '  eligible '  in  the  first,  second,  or 
even  third  degree — a  poor  medical  student.  At  the  termination 
of  this,  his  last  session,  he  had  nothing  that  man  had  bestowed 
to  rely  upon  except  the  diploma  his  diligence  had  earned 
Heaven's  endowment  of  genius  and  a  brave,  true  heart  wer« 
naught  in  their  eyes — blind,  besotted  bats  that  they  are  1" 

"  Louise  1  dearest  1" 

"  Don't  interrupt  me  I" 

She  was  sitting  upright  on  the  floor,  her  black  hair  streaming 
down  her  shoulders,  her  brow  knit,  her  face  growing  white  in 
§tead  of  flushing,  as  her  speech  increased  in  \ehemence 


12  M08B-8IDK. 

"  My  mother  is  never  violent.  There  she  had  the  advantage 
of  me  when  the  outbreak  arrived — which,  thanks  to  her  diplo- 
macy, was  not  until  weeks  of  absence  and  estrangement  had 
driven  me  well-nigh  to  doubt  of  his  love,  while  they  forced  me  to 
confess  mine,  for  the  first  time,  to  myself.  His  visits  having  been 
discontinued,  our  casual  meetings  were  those  of  apparent  stran- 
gers, or  slight  acquaintances.  The  truth  was  revealed  one  day, 
when,  through  singular  negligence  on  her  part,  we  found  our- 
selves together  at  the  house  of  a  friend,  in  circumstances  where 
an  interview  could  not  be  avoided.  From  him  I  learned  that 
my  mother  had  insinuated  her  disapprobation  of  the  attentions 
my  duller  sight  had  not  considered  marked,  and  his  proud  na- 
ture required  no  more  to  exclude  him  from  our  dwelling.  He 
was  ready  for  departure  for  the  far  West,  but  this  conversation 
decided  him  to  postpone  the  journey.  A  formal  declaration, 
sanctioned  by  myself,  was  presented  to  my  father,  and  met,  as  I 
had  forewarned  him  it  would  do,  with  a  peremptory  refusal.  I 
joined  my  pleadings  to  his.  They  were  not  offered  to  my 
mother — I  knew  her  too  well — but  to  the  parent  who  had 
hitherto  indulged  my  every  caprice,  although  I  had  never 
thought  of  seeking  sympathy  from  him.  Like  most  other  men, 
he  made  a  business  matter  of  our  petition.  Could  the  drops 
that  were  falling  from  my  heart  have  been  coined  into  guineas 
for  my  lover's  purse,  how  gracious  would  have  been  his  recep 
tion  into  our  family — with  what  a  flourish  our  plighting  been 
proclaimed  1  But  they  were  only  life-blood,  whose  flow  must 
leave  that  heart  a  dead,  worthless  thing,  and  for  all  practi- 
cal purposes,  I  would  be  better  off.  Then  I  vowed  that  no  mor- 
tal power  should  hinder  me  from  becoming  his  wife  ;  that  I 
would  follow  him  through  poverty,  toil,  banishment,  to  the 
worlds  end.  I  met  opposition  here  for  which  I  was  not  pre- 
pared. I  shall  never  forget  the  sad  but  resolute  words  that  an 
dwered  my  offer  to  do  this,  and  more,  if  he  would  permit  it. 

"  '  No,  Louise  !  I  cannot — T  ought  not  to  avail  myself  of  your 


MC88-8IDE.  13 

generosity.  Mine  you  cannot  be  now.  All  that  I  ask  of  yon  \a 
to  remember  and  to  wait.  If  I  live,  I  will  claim  you  when  you* 
friends  shall  feel  honored,  not  disgraced  by  the  alliance.' 

"  'Remember  and  wait  I'  This  was  my  watchword,  my  talis- 
mar.  foi  six  months,  and  then  I  had  a  letter  from  a  brother  phy« 
sician  in  a  distant  city,  who  had  seen  him  die  1" 

The  brow  did  not  relax  ;  the  lips  were  still  rigid.  She  bowed 
her  head  again  to  my  knee. 

Twilight  was  gathering  in  the  corners  ;  the  gleam  of  the  silver 
was  dim,  and  the  vari-colored  robes  were  sobered  into  one  dun 
hue.  The  bridal  dress  had  been  hung  upon  the  foot  of  the  bed, 
and  the  veil  spread  over  it.  Through  my  tears,  the  streaming 
white  flow  of  its  drapery  took  the  form  of  a  living  presence — an 
angel,  whose  garments  of  light  were  the  one  spot  of  brightness 
in  the  room,  bending  towards  the  grief-smitten  girl  in  an  atti- 
tude of  love  and  compassion.  Without,  the  roar  of  the  Fall  was 
heavy,  ceaseless,  and  I  began  to  discern  some  meaning  in  its 
voice. 

"  His  zeal  in  his  profession,"  continued  Louise,  "  so  said  the 
writer,  '  had  led  him  into  the  midst  of  a  dangerous  epidemic, 
then  prevailing  in  that  place,  and  he  had  fallen,  an  honorable 
sacrifice.'  I  told  no  one  of  the  tidings  I  had  received.  The 
letter  reached  me  in  the  forenoon.  That  evening  I  appeared  at 
a  large  party,  and  danced,  and  laughed,  and  coquetted  until 
daybreak.  A  week  later,  my  mother  saw  the  announcement  of 
his  death  in  a  Western  paper,  and  sent  it  up  to  my  room.  When 
we  met,  not  a  syllable  was  exchanged  on  the  subject,  nor  has 
his  name  ever  passed  my  lips  or  pierced  my  ears  since.  But, 
Grace  I"  and  her  voice  sank  to  a  whisper — "  deep  in  my  heart 
Ihere  is  a  grave — sealed  fast  !  for  I  trampled  down  the  earth 
myself — beat  it  hard  1  No  grass  grows  there  ;  no  tear  ever 
urets  it  ;  no  sunbeam  ever  strays  through  the  darkness  to  lighj 
it.  My  former  self  is  buried  there  with  his  memoj  y  1" 


1 4  MOSS-SIDE. 

A  spell  was  on  my  tongue  and  senses.  I  saw  the  loiely  grare 
ihuddered  in  the  frosty  night  that  enveloped  it.     Once  a  feat 
Crossed  my  mind  that  we  were  going  mad  together,  for  a  mahiac 
i  believed  her  to  be  at  that  moment. 

The  angel  seemed  to  draw  nearer — to  bend  lower. 

Louise  resumed  :  "  I  am  to  be  married  in  three  days — and  to 

man  for  whom  I  have  no  more  respect  than  I  would  fe^l  for  a 
'ove-eick  schoolboy  ;  one  whose  society  I  barely  tolerate  ;  just 
raeh  a  commonplace  puppet  as  you  might  pick  up  by  the  dozen 
ui  any  modern  drawing-room  well  furnished  with  guests.  But 
my  sagacious  mamma  has  consulted  confidentially  with  each  of 
the  five  hundred  oracles  of  '  Society,'  and  this  is  unanimously 
voted  a  suitable  match — by  the  same  rule  that  a  grovelling 
barn-yard  fowl,  if  his  wings  were  tipped  with  shining  yellow, 
might  be  considered  a  '  suitable  match '  for  the  soaring  falcon  !" 

"But,  Louise,  you  had  a  right  to  protest — to  rebel  against 
this  sale  of  yourself  I" 

"  Why  should  I  be  refractory,  my  dear  Innocent  ?  I  prefer 
an  establishment  of  my  own  to  my  present  residence — a  purse, 
whose  strings  are  entirely  at  my  command,  to  dependence  upon  a 
father  whom  my  unruly  spirit  has  displeased.  Marry  I  must,  or 
my  younger  sisters  will  push  me  off  the  stage  before  the  bloom 
of  my  youth  has  departed.  Could  I  remain  here  to  fade  and 
shrivel  into  a  scarecrow-warning  to  Misses  Amelia,  Marcia,  and 
Julia  Wynne  to  shun  the  calamitous  crime  of  a  '  romantic  attach- 
ment?' My  mother  blandly  'supposed  I  would  treat  Mr.  Wil- 
son's proposal  with  the  respect  it  deserved,'  and  congratulated 
me  after  the  most  highly  approved  style,  when  I  informed  her 
that  I  had  returned  a  favorable  reply.  I  have  had  other  wealth 
•aitors,  but  none  of  them  were  quite  so  rich  as  he,  and  he  pos 
•esses  the  additional  virtue  of  good-nature,  so  I  trust  he  will  not 
Incommode  me  seriously.  He  is  foolish  enough  to  adore  me,  and 
I,  as  I  have  said,  do  not  esteem  him  of  sufficient  importance  «c 


MOSS-BIDE.  15 

dislike  him--so  we  shall  be  a  pattern  couple,  and  happy — yes 
quite  happy  !" 

She  was  raising  the  gate  again — no  longer  with  spasmodic 
uncertain  energy,  but  with  the  efficient,  continuous  power  of  will — 
a  will,  wuich  in  her  earlier,  and  I  was  obliged  to  say  to  myself, 
her  better  days,  was  invincible  when  excited  to  exert  its  full 
vigor. 

It  was  only  a  puff  of  wind  that  fluttered  the  veil,  but  the 
angel  seemed  preparing  for  flight.  Steps  and  voices  were  heard 
upon  the  stair-case.  Louise  sprang  to  her  feet,  folded  me  in  a 
convulsive  embrace,  pressed  a  last  kiss  upon  my  mouth — and  the 
grim  dour  clashed  to — never  more  to  yield  to  the  touch  of  a 
mortal's  hand. 

Amelia,  a  pert  girl  of  fourteen,  and  Louise's  maid  were  the 
intruders.  The  latter  brought  a  pair  of  lamps  that  drove  glooin 
and  apparitions  from  the  chamber. 

"Bless  me,  Louise  1"  exclaimed  her  sister,  "don't  you  mean  to 
dress  for  tea  ?  And  Mr.  Wilson  is  the  soul  of  punctuality." 

"  There  is  the  less  need  then  of  my  embodying  the  quality," 
retorted  Louise,  carelessly.  "  Miss  Leigh  and  myself  have  been 
making  work  for  yon,  Margaret,"  to  her  maid,  who  was  survey- 
ing the  disordered  room  in  manifest  dismay.  "  I  will  help  you 
put  these  dresses  away ;"  and  without  even  smoothing  her  hair, 
she  proceeded  to  fold  some  and  replace  others  in  their  several 
repositories. 

"It  does  provoke  me  to  see  you  so  unconcerned  and  col- 
lected," said  Amelia.  "  Did  yon  ever  see  another  bride  behave 
as  she  does,  Miss  Leigh  ?  Even  Herbert  complains  that  you  arc 
disrespectful  to  Mr.  Wilson,  Louise,  in  always  consulting  youi 
own  convenience,  taking  your  own  time,  without  caring  whether 
it  su:ts  him  or  not.  It  is  too  bad  I" 

As  her  sister  did  not  notice  this  reprimand,  delivered  with  the 
asperity  of  a  dictatorial  duenna,  the  flippant  miss  addressed  her 


16  M068BIDE 

self  poutiugly  to  me,  and  tendered  iier  assistance  to  expedite  mj 
toilette.  She  doubtless  animadverted  mentally  upon  my  stu 
pidity,  as  she  had  done  upon  Louise's  indifference,  for  my  maze 
was  not  ended,  nor  was  the  new  aching  at  my  heart  removed.  I 
was  under  the  necessity,  more  than  once,  of  pausing  in  the  task 
of  dressing,  and  holding  myself  up  by  the  table,  so  strong  was 
he  impression  that  the  vast,  rushing  river,  booming  without,  was 
bearing  me  with  it — that  I  had  become  one  of  its  many  moaning 
waves. 


M  O  8  8  -8  I  D  K. 


CHAPTER  II. 

AKILIA  had  erred  in  her  statement  of  the  habits  of  her  future 
trother,  or  something  had  caused  him  to  deviate  from  them  this 
3veniug,  for  when  we  descended  to  the  parlor,  three-quarters  of 
an  hour  after  the  tune  to  which  that  young  lady  had  declared 
him  to  be  "  as  true  as  the  clock,"  we  found  no  one  there  except- 
Mrs.  Wynne.  I  had  been  rather  inclined  to  like  her  in  my 
childish  days,  but  the  revelations  of  this  afternoon  had  effected  a 
revulsion  of  sentiment,  and  I  was  conscious  of  replying  very  dis- 
tantly to  her  overtures,  as  she  gave  me  the  seat  at  her  right 
hand  on  the  sofa,  and  reiterated  the  ceremonial  of  welcome  to 
her  house.  She  was  rather  a  handsome  woman,  not  yet  pas! 
the  meridian  of  life  ;  for  not  a  strand  of  grey  was  mixed  witb 
her  blonde  hair,  and  the  fashionable  cap  was  worn  more  because 
it  was  becoming,  and  imparted  to  her  the  requisite  matronly 
appearance,  than  to  conceal  time's  ravages.  Her  face  expressed 
the  very  superlative  of  placidity.  Had  it  been  more  frequently, 
or,  1  might  say,  had  it  ever  been  disturbed,  I  could  sooner  have 
believed  this  the  equanimity  of  a  bland  nature,  and  not  an 
adroitly  adjusted  mask.  She  was  an  endless  talker,  yet  nobody 
was  so  unrefined,  as  to  style  her  even,  subdued,  melting  speech, 
dissolving  in  the  ear,  as  butter  does  in  the  mouth — volubility.  I 
was  never  able  to  account  for  the  queer  association  of  ideas,  but 
whenever  she  opened  a  conversation  with  me,  1  fancied  myself  a 
babe  in  a  cradle,  which  she  kept  moving  to  and  fro — a  gentle 
oscillation  that  lulled  whether  I  willed  to  be  quiet  or  not.  Louise 


18  MOSS-SIDE. 

eat  down  to  time  her  harp  just  within  the  folding-doors,  to« 
far  off,  I  thought,  to  hear  much  that  we  said. 

"  After  all,"  said  Mrs.  Wynne,  in  her  soft  undertone,  "  I  am 
perhaps  the  person  most  obliged  by  your  visit,  Grace — or  am  I 
to  do  violence  -  to  my  feelings  and  custom  by  saying  '  Miss 
Leigh  ?' " 

"  By  no  means,  madam,"  I  rejoined. 

"  Thank  you  !  I  cannot  divest  myself  of  the  notion  that  I 
have  a  proprietorship  in  yon.  You  have  been  a  kind,  faithful 
friend  to  our  dear  Louise,  and  it  is  one  of  my  weak  points — an 
amiable  weakness  some  people  are  so  good  as  to  call  it — that  I 
cannot  refrain  from  extending  something  of  a  mother's  love  to 
those  who  are  beloved  by  my  children.  When  our  sweet  girl 
here  asked  my  permission  to  write  for  you,  she  commenced  a 
statement  of  her  reasons  for  wishing  your  attendance  upon  this 
interesting  occasion,  when  I  checked  her — '  My  love,'  said  I,  '  I 
am  ready  to  scold  you,  for  imagining  for  one  single  moment  that 
I  could  forget  the  charming  intimacy  that  has  existed  between 
yourself  and  Grace  for  four  or  five  years.  You  know  that  I 
have  fostered  it,  have  commended  your  selection  of  a  bosom 
friend,  and  incited  you  to  fidelity.  Moreover,  I  shall  be  happy 
to  see  her  for  my  own  sake.  Her  agreeable  society  and  buoyant 
spirits  will  beguile  me  of  much  of  the  sadness  a  mother  inevita- 
bly feels  at  such  an  event  as  the  marriage  of  a  dutiful  and  cher- 
ished daughter.  I  shall  depend  upon  her  to  help  me  bear  the 
trying  scene.'  So,  my  dear  Grace,  you  see  how  selfish  I  am,  and 
how  much  you  are  expected  to  perform." 

The  cradle  was  in  full  swing,  and  I  answered  precisely  as  she 
meant  I  should,  that  I  was  honored  by  the  responsibility,  aud 
would  do  my  best. 

"  Mr.  Wilson  is  a  superior  young  man,"  continued  Mrs.  Wynne. 
"  Our  Louise  has  made  a  judicious  choice,  one  seconded  with 
satisfaction  by  Mr  Wynne  and  myself.  His  affection  for  hei 


MOSS-SIDE.  19 

recalls  some  of  the  most  delightful  passages  of  my  own  expert 
ence,  for,  my  little  Grace,  I  was  once  young,  and  had  my  suit- 
ors. I  must  be  permitted  to  observe,  as  I  am  speaking  to 
yon,  that  the  conduct  of  Mr.  Wilson's  fiancte  is  entirely  comme  u 
fout.  A  young  lady  owes  it  to  herself  and  her  sex  to  conduct 
ncrself  with  great  circumspection  under  these  circumstance* 
—my  love  I" 

This  was  a  mild  reproof  to  her  daughter  for  the  breaking  of  a 
harp-string  that  twanged  loudly  at  this  instant.  The  placid 
blue  eyes  returned  to  me  : 

"  I  suppose  our  bride  has  informed  you  of  Mr.  Wilson's  gener- 
osity iii  purchasing  a  house  on  the  next  block  to  ours.  It  is  in 
keeping  with  his  taste  and  wealth,  and  I  have  solaced  myself  in 
some  poor  measure  for  the  loss  of  my  child  by  superintending 
the  arrangements  for  her  future  comfort.  Mr.  Wilson  has  con 
suited  me  in  everything  of  this  sort,  and  exhibited  such  an 
ardent  desire  to  do  all  in  his  power  to  promote  his  idol's  happi- 
ness that  he  has  quite  won  my  forgiveness  for  the  robbery  he 
intends  committing.  I  shall  soon  love  him  as  a  son.  We  have 
already  one  adopted  child  who  has  never  felt  the  loss  of  his 
natural  parents  ;  and  if  it  were  possible  to  repay  the  care  we 
have  bestowed  upon  him,  his  exemplary  conduct  would  recom- 
pense us.  He  has  his  faults,  it  is  true." 

Louise  looked  over  at  us,  and  although  the  blue  eyes  did  not 
stir  from  mine,  her  mother  evidently  substituted  another  for  the 
sentence  on  her  tongue. 

"  But  there  are  volumes  to  be  said  in  his  praise.  I,  of  all 
women,  have  reason  to  be  proud  of  my  children." 

This  maternal  devotion  was,  in  the  language  of  Society,  "  a 
beautiful  trait  in  Mrs.  Wynne's  character."  If  so  forcible  an 
expression  had  been  admissible  in  its  vocabulary,  it  would  have 
been  termed  her  most  remarkable  characteristic.  I  was  made 
aware,  by  her  rising  with  a  benignant  smile  towards  the  door 


20  MOSS-SIDE. 

that  two  gentlemen  were  entering.  Both  were  young  ;  both 
well-dressed  ;  but  one  was  taller,  and  had  a  finer  face  and  figure 
than  the  other.  This  was  my  hasty  observation  as  they  advanced 
to  pay  their  respects  to  the  lady  of  the  mansion. 

"  Mr.  Wilson,"  she  said  to  me  ;  "  my  sou,  Mr.  Herbert  Wynne. 

Mr.  Wilson  bowed  ;  Mr.  Wynne  shook  hands  with  me  cordially 
AS  his  sister's  friend  and  guest,  and  took  the  place  his  mother 
racated  for  him  at  my  side.  I  answered  his  preliminary  remarks 
with  attention  unequally  divided  between  him  and  his  com- 
panion, who  had  gone  from  us  to  Louise.  Her  description  ot 
him  was  correct,  so  far  as  outward  appearance  was  concerned. 
His  bearing  was  quiet  and  gentlemanly.  There  was  nothing  in 
it  or  his  face  to  distinguish  him  in  a  crowd.  He  was  not  home- 
ly ;  yet  his  features  were  not  perfectly  regular,  and  whether  he 
was  speaking  or  they  were  at  rest,  they  were  lacking  in  mo- 
bility ;  forming  one  of  those  unfortunate  countenances  which 
always  lead  us  to  wonder  if  Nature,  in  an  absent-minded  fit, 
forgot  to  establish  the  telegraph  between  them  and  the  souls  of 
their  owners,  yet  do  not  tell  the  unmistakable  tale  that  idiocy 
reports,  of  wires  severed  and  destroyed. 

Mrs.  Wynne  approached  him  after  he  had  spoken  some  words 
to  his  affianced.  He  arose  respectfully  and  remained  standing 
while  he  heard  and  replied  to  her.  His  tone  was  deferential  ;  it 
was  plain  that  all  connected  with  Louise  were  objects  of  peculiar 
reverence  in  his  sight. 

"  We  have  been  tempted  to  quarrel  with  you  for  your  unheard- 
of  remissness  this  evening,"  said  the  prospective  mother-in-law, 
by  a  smiling  glance,  skillfully  including  her  daughter  in  the  ph 
r»l  pronoun. 

"  My  delay  was  unintentional,  I  assure  you,  Mrs.  Wynne,  h 
was  caused  by  a  circumstance  over  which  I  had  no  control,  and 
displeased  me  more  than  it  did  anybody  else." 

The  lady  shook  her  head.     "  It  is  all  very  well  for  you  to  B»y 


MDBS-SIDE.  21 

so  ;  but  I  am  inclined  to  suspect  a  ruse  on  your  part  to  excite  . 
our  anxiety,  or  stimulate  our  desire  for  your  company." 

"  No,  indeed,  madam  I    I  had  no  such  thought.     Miss  Louist 
will  acquit  me,  I  am  certain." 

"  Of  course,"  was  her  reply. 

Her  mind  seemed  to  be  intent  upon  the  instrument  now  nearly 
ready  for  her  performance.  Her  deportment  to  her  lover  was 
uniformly  the  same  ;  never  rude,  yet  never  exactly  respectful. 
He  was  unremitting  in  his  homage,  craving,  as  his  reward,  only 
the  privilege  of  being  near  her  as  the  most  faithful  of  her  slaves. 
He  had  no  taste  for  music,  yet  when  she  played,  he  was  content* 
edly  happy  to  stand  a  listener  to  strains  as  meaningless  to  him 
as  they  would  have  been  to  a  deaf  man  ;  to  hold  the  gloves  or 
handkerchief  she  would  have  tossed  on  the  carpet  or  table,  in  the 
absence  of  an  obsequious  beau.  My  brother  was  one  of  our 
evening  visitors,  and  conversed  much  with  Louise.  He  was  a 
gay  youth  of  two-and-twenty,  chivalric  and  intelligent,  qualities 
that  were  not  likely  to  be  overlooked  or  undervalued  by  her. 
She  had  never  been  more  beautiful,  more  fascinating,  than  during 
the  hour  he  remained  at  her  side.  So  real  appeared  her  enjoy- 
ment that  I  was  more  than  ever  disposed  to  consider  the  scene 
of  the  afternoon  as  a  fever-dream  and  forget  it  entirely.  I  could 
see  that  Frederic  made  various  polite  efforts  to  engage  Mr.  Wil- 
son in  their  discussions.  That  these  were  abortive  seemed  to  be 
a  matter  of  small  consequence  to  the  bride-elect ;  nor  did  her 
betrothed  betray  any  symptoms  of  mortification  or  jealousy  at 
his  inability  to  play  any  part  except  that  of  a  looker-on  in  a 
dialogue  she  enjoyed  with  such  gusto.  The  most  patient  of 
automatons,  he  maintained  his  post  at  her  left  hand  ;  and  when, 
n  a  moment  of  unusual  animation,  she  wheeled  quite  away  from 
him  to  face  her  new  acquaintance,  he  consoled  himself  by  a  pro- 
longed  study  of  the  bouquet  she  had  intrusted  to  his  care  when 
her  fingers  were  needed  for  the  harp-strings,  and  which  she  had 


22  MOBS-BIDE. 

not  thought  to  reclaim.  He  was  very  fond  of  flowers,  and  had 
brought  her  this  that  very  evening.  She  had  held  it  negligently 
for  a  few  minutes,  and  observed  casually  that  it  was  "  rather 
pretty,"  but  her  touch  had  rendered  it  a  sacred  thing,  enhanced 
ts  beauty  and  fragrance. 

May  Seaton  and  myself  occupied  the  same  divan,  and  Herbcr* 
Wynne  was  enacting  the  agreeable  host  in  his  best  style.  Mat 
knew  him  well,  and  I  soon  found  myself  on  the  way  to  like  him 
as  much  as  she  did.  He  was  very  tall — more  than  -eix  feet — but 
as  straight  as  a  young  pine,  and  so  symmetrical  in  every  pro- 
portion that  his  height  was  rarely  remarked,  unless  by  comparing 
him  with  men  of  ordinary  stature,  and  then  one  was  apt  to  regard 
them  as  dwarfed,  and  him  as  the  right  standard  of  manly  growth. 
May,  tiny  sprite  1  would  have  been  obliged  to  stand  on  tiptoe 
to  take  his  arm,  and  glanced  up  at  him  as  the  anemone  might 
at  the  laurel.  Opposite  as  they  were  in  appearance,  and,  in 
many  respects  as  to  character,  they  were  fast  friends — friends 
in  this,  the  clear,  early  morning  of  their  lives — truer,  when  the 
thunder-cloud  swept  over  the  noon-day  sun.  But  memory  is  anti- 
cipating the  pen. 

Mr.  Wynne,  a  taciturn,  abstracted-looking  man,  who  seldom 
brushed  the  dust  of  the  counting-room  from  his  coat,  and  never 
from  his  brain,  had,  with  the  briefest  of  excuses,  gone  out  to 
fulfill  a  business  engagement.  His  lady-wife  left  the  parlor  at 
the  same  time,  but  came  back  after  a  while  to  see  how  matters 
were  going  on.  Her  eye  rested  first  upon  our  group,  and  be- 
spoke amiable  approval  ;  then,  with  a  stealthy,  cat-like  motion, 
passed  over  to  the  other  trio.  I  cannot  relate  the  exact  ma- 
noeuvre  by  which  she  accomplished  the  change,  which  I  saw  was 
decreed  the  instant  she  entered.  It  was  apparently  a  voluntary 
act  01  the  parties  concerned  that  they  were  shifted  like  the  pieces 
on  *.  ohess-board  ;  that  I  was  presently  seated  at  the  piano, 
tinging  with  Herbert ;  Frederic  chatting  with  May,  and  Louis* 


M.BS-8IDE.  26 

the  circaraspect  auditor  of  Mr.  Wilson's  discourse  ;  while  the 
incomparable  mamma  gazed  benedictions  upon  us  from  her  chair 
of  state.  If  I  had  marvelled  at  Louise's  absolute  resignation  oi 
soul  and  body  to  her  mother's  control,  as  I  heard  her  passionate 
plaint  over  her  lost  love  ;  the  fierce,  bitter  denunciations  of  the 
code  that  had  murdered  her  all  of  earthly  joy,  this  wonder  was 
now  merged  in  the  greater  admiration  of  the  resolution  that  had 
dared,  even  for  a  season,  to  contend  with  this  woman  of  smooth 
tongue  and  iron  heart. 

The  drama  was  played  through  bravely  by  all  actors,  except- 
ing my  "  unsophisticated  "  self.  It  required  my  utmost  power 
of  self-command  to  restrain  the  utterance  of  emotions  that  held 
high,  alternate  sway  within  me.  There  were  times  when  I  could 
have  knelt  to  Louise  and  wept  out  my  prayer  that  she  would 
have  mercy  upon  herself ;  others,  in  which  I  was  sorely  tempted 
to  divulge  the  truth  to  the  oruelly-deceived  dupe  of  Mrs.  Wynne's 
ambition  ;  or,  grown  yet  more  desperate,  revolved  the  probable 
result  of  an  appeal  to  this  feminine  autocrat — a  half-resolve, 
that  faded  into  air  when  those  undisturbed  eyes  encountered 
mine.  Then  I  was  indignant — ready  to  brand  the  whole  family, 
Louise  not  excepted — with  shameless  duplicity,  abominable 
fraud.  Could  Herbert,  in  whom  I  hourly  discovered  more  to 
like  and  esteem,  be  ignorant  that  this  marriage  would  seal  the 
misery  of  the  sister  he  loved  so  well,  or  was  he  as  culpably  heart- 
less as  the  rest  ?  I  asked  myself  this  again  and  again,  averse 
to  admit  the  truth  of  the  reply  my  mind  was  forced  to  give. 

The  evening  came.  I  was  dressad,  and  awaiting  the  summon 
to  take  my  place  in  the  procession.  I  had  dismissed  my  maid 
and  *,he  night  being  sulty,  stood  leaning  out  of  the  window  ID 
tiie  vain  hope  of  catching  a  breath  of  air  fresh  enough  to  bring 
ease  to  my  laboring  lungs.  The  hoarse  murmur  of  the  unquiet 
river  found  an  answer  in  nry  breast  ;  for  my  thoughts  were  of 
human  sin  and  human  woe.  I  longed  for,  yet  dreaded  the  arri- 


24  MJ88-SIDE. 

t»l  of,  the  fatal  hour.  How  much  the  latter  feeling  exceeded 
the  other,  I  discovered  when  a  tap  at  my  door  startled  me  aa 
though  it  had  been  the  herald  of  doom. 

"  Come  in  1"  I  said,  faintly,  and  Mrs.  Wynne  appeared 

"  Forgive  me  for  interrupting  you,  love,  but  if  I  recollect 
lightly,  you  borrowed  my  vinaigrette  yesterday  when  your  head 
fcched.  If  you  do  not  need  it  yourself  this  evening,  may  I  trou- 
ble you  for  it  ?" 

I  hastened  to  obey  her,  and  expressed  my  regret  that  my 
thoughtlessness  had  obliged  her  to  ask  for  it. 

"  It  is  not  of  the  least  importance,  my  sweet  child.  I  seldom 
have  anv  use  for  it ;  but  I  find  myself  a  little  nervous — nothing 
very  strange,  you  will  say.  But  I  deem  it  my  duty  to  struggle 
with  my  feelings  for  the  sakes  and  good  of  those  around  me. 
You  deserve  credit  for  your  punctuality — a  very  uncommon  vir- 
tue on  these  occasions.  Let  me  see  whether  you  are  as  charm- 
ing as  usual " — throwing  a  blaze  of  lamp-light  over  my  figure. 
"  The  most  chaste  taste  could  propose  no  alteration.  But  these 
pale  cheeks,  my  little  Grace  1  they  are  not  altogether  to  my 
liking.  What  say  you  to  a  touch  of  artificial  bloom,  to  be  kept 
a  profound  secret  between  us  two  ?  No  ?  then  I  will  not  insist. 
When  that  modest-looking  head  is  shaken  in  the  negative,  no- 
body who  knows  you  will  urge  you  further.  And,  indeed,  upon 
second  thought,  an  interesting  pallor  is  preferable.  Only,  we 
must  bear  up,  and  not  distress  our  dear  Louise  by  our  selfish 
POITOW  ;  must  endeavor  to  remember,  in  the  midst  of  our  be- 
reavement, that  our  loss  is  her  gain." 

The  repressed  tide  broke  from  eyes  and  lips  together. 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Wynne  1  if  I  could  believe  that  this  is  so  I  That 
she  will  be  the  happier  for  this  marriage— that  her  heart  goes 
with  her  baud  1"  I  sobbed. 

She  did  not  tremble  in  a  single  nerve.  The  fail  of  my  hot 
tears  was  upon  glassy  ice.  I  knew  this  by  instinct  before  thi 


M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  K  .  25 

iteady  band  she  laid  upon  mine  confirmed  it  ;  and  if  I  still  wept, 
it  was  in  utter  hopelessness.  She  obliged  me,  against  my  will, 
to  hear  her  ;  yet  her  modulations  were  low  and  persuasive  as 
orer. 

"  My  darling  girl !  you  are  grieving  yourself  needlessly — 
Bpoiling  your  eyes  and  complexion,  injuring  the  tone  of  your 
spirits  at  a  time  when  you  most  need  to  be  cheerful — and  afflict- 
ing me — for  nothing  !  I  have  but  a  minute  to  stay  with  you  : 
I  ought  to  be  down  stairs  even  now  ;  but  I  cannot  desert  you  in 
your  trouble.  Trouble  it  is,  although  imaginary.  Look  at  me, 
Grace  1" 

The  infallible  lullaby  motion  was  beginning  to  be  felt.  She 
smiled  as  I  wiped  away  the  remaining  drops,  and  with  one  heart- 
breaking sigh,  submitted  to  the  dominion  of  the  look  that  had 
quelled  storms  yet  more  violent. 

"  Now,  I  can  talk  to  you.  Have  you  ever  seen  in  me  any 
proof  of  slight  affection  for  my  children  ?  Have  not  their  inte- 
rests been  mine  from  their  birth  up  to  this  hour  ?  Do  I  not 
know  the  peculiar  temperament,  the  disposition,  the  need  of  each 
one  of  my  flock  ?  Is  not  their  welfare  the  study  of  life  ?  Am  I 
a  very  unnatural  mother,  dear  Grace  ?" 

"  No  madam,"  she  rocked  me  into  saying. 

She  continued  :  "  I  do  not  chide  you  for  your  fears,  for  I  do  not 
doubt  that  their  spring  is  love,  but  I  appeal  to  your  judgment  to 
decide  which  of  us  is  the  more  likely  to  consult  Louise's  real 
good.  You  have  a  warm,  tender  heart,  and  a  head  which  will 
become  as  reliable  in  its  way,  by  and  by.  Just  now,  it  is  apt  to 
be  hasty.  If,  at  your  age  of  discretion,  you  make  as  admirabl 
a  choice  of  a  husband  as  your  old  school-fellow  has  done,  the 
tears  shed  at  your  wedding  will  be  as  uncalled-for  as  these.  1 
ba  re  faith  iu  your  excellent  sense  to  believe  that  I  shall  see  the 
day  when  our  views  on  this  important  subject  will  correspond 
more  nearly  than  they  do  at  present." 
2 


26  MOSS-SIDE. 

"  Heaven  forbid  1"  said  my  grief-swollen  heart  ;  but  I  essayed 
a  sickly  smile  as  she  kissed  my  forehead  and  bade  me  '  Be  of 
good  cheer — trust  and  hope  1" 

Nothing  but  her  presence  and  watchfulness  carried  me  through 
the  heartless  role  of  that  evening.  Louise  was  magnificent  in 
jress  and  carriage  ;  the  praise  and  pride  of  the  assembly  ;  while 
^e  groom  had  never  appeared  to  less  advantage.  There  was,  in 
him  a  happy  flurry  and  a  levity  of  behavior  unbecoming  the 
dignity  of  his  position  ;  nor  was  this  more  excusable  to  the  com- 
pany because  it  was  the  evident  effect  of  his  intoxicating  bliss. 
According  to  the  Agrarian  law  of  society,  he  had  no  right  to 
'ndulge  in  more  raptures  than  his  neighbors  ;  nor  I  to  be  more 
fliserable  than  the  bridesmaid  next  me  in  order — a  lively  rattle 
vho  had  "  run  up  from  the  sea-shore,  at  this  barbarously  shock- 
ing season  to  see  Louise  married — not  without  some  hope,"  she 
archly  confessed,  "  that  so  commendable  an  example  might  prove 
contagious." 

Mr.  Wilson's  extremely  comfortable  frame  of  mind  disposed 
him  tc  play  the  entertaining  ;  and  although  he  was  not  to  be 
inveigled  three  paces  from  his  wife's  elbow,  he  was  bountiful, 
superfluous  in  his  attentions  to  every  one  who  approached  her. 
His  forte  did  not  lie  in  the  direction  of  saying  the  brilliant  no- 
things for  which  Louise  had  acquired  a  reputation,  but  he  had 
the  temerity  to  stray  into  this  dauaurous  field  ;  doubtless,  with 
the  laudable  aim  of  gratifying  he  »nd  proving  a  congeniality  of 
talent  and  taste.  I  had  avoided  as  vicinity  as  much  as  I  could, 
consistently  with  my  duties  as  one  of  the  attendants,  for  the 
simple  reason  that  I  could  not  endure  the  incessant  allusions 
made  by  those  who  addressed  either  him  or  Louise,  to  their  new 
relation,  so  I  knew  nothing  of  his  adventurous  spirit  until  I  wai 
the  chance  listener  to  a  conversation  behind  me. 

"Wilson  is  coming  out  alarmingly,"  said  a  young  man  to  a 
.-try  acquaintance.  "I  never  suspected  him  of  being  a  wit 


M088-8IDK.  27 

before,  but  his  scintillations  have  set  the  room  in  a  blaze  thii 
evening.  They  are  attributable,  I  suppose,  to  the  inspiration  of 
the  occasion.  What  was  his  reply  to  your  congratulations  ?" 

"  Decidedly  a  unique  one,"  answered  the  lady.  "  He  told  me 
that  I  was  the  most  tastefully-dressed  lady  in  the  room— except 
Bis  wife  !" 

"  And  mine  was  as  original.  He  slapped  me  on  the  shoulder; 
jiquired  how  business  was  to-day,  and  complimented  the  cut 
of  my  whiskers." 

"  No  !  now,  is  it  possible  ?" 

Their  laughter  subsided  as  Mrs.  Wynne  passed  by  them,  and 
the  subject  was  resumed  when  she  was  at  a  convenient  distance. 
I  did  not  linger  to  gather  more  of  their  refined  criticism,  but 
similar  remarks  were  current  wherever  I  moved.  Then  occurred 
to  me  another  and  an  agonizing  element  in  the  unhappiness  of 
Louise's  lot — the  thought  that  she  was  wedded  to  a  man  of 
whom  she  must  often  be  ashamed  I  I  felt  that  this  must 
brim  her  cup  of  humiliating  anguish.  Already,  ere  she  had  beeu 
two  hours  a  wife,  one  of  her  main  strongholds  had  been  proved 
untenable.  She  had  never  questioned  her  ability  to  preserve  her 
individuality  ;  never  dreamed  that  his  weakness  could  detract 
from  her  strength.  To  me,  she  had  declared  that  she  could  not 
despise  one  to  whom  she  was  perfectly  indifferent,  that  "  he  would 
not  be  much  in  her  way  ;"  but  she  was  now  to  learn  that  the 
undiscrimiuating  public  will  identify  the  wife,  however  gifted, 
with  the  husband,  however  inferior  ;  will  persist  in  ignoring  the 
possible  duality  of  their  existence.  Thanks  to  her  mother's 
precautionary  application  of  "  a  touch  of  artificial  bloom,"  no 
casual  observer  would  have  suspected  any  emotion  at  war  with 
those  the  time  and  place  were  presumed  to  excite  ;  but  I  waa 
persuaded  that  I  interpreted  truly  indications  of  her  disgust  at 
his  proximity,  mortification  at  his  conduct,  hatred  of  the  bond! 
scarcely  riveted. 


28  MO88-8IDK. 

One  gesture  and  look  I  have  never  forgotten.  I  stopped 
to  speak  with  her  at  a  turn  in  the  promenade,  when  Mr.  Wilson 
Interrupted  me  vrith  a  vapid  compliment,  not  a  whit  more  sensi- 
ble or  appropriate  than  were  those  I  had  heard  accredited  tc 
him  awhile  before.  Mrs.  Wynne  happened  to  be  by,  and  covered 
the  lame  attempt  dexterously,  as  she  alone  had  the  tact  to  do. 
Louise  was  toying  with  her  bracelet,  the  bridal  present  of  the 
enamored  groom.  The  clasp  was  entangled  in  her  veil ;  an 
impatient  movement  to  release  it,  loosened  the  spring,  and  the 
superb  bauble  fell  to  the  floor.  As  Mr.  Wilson  stooped  to  regain 
It,  his  bride  set  her  foot  upon  it.  Hardly  one  of  the  rich  clus- 
ter of  pearls  escaped  fracture. 

A  sad  accident  I"  said  her  mother.  "  She  is  a  heedless  crea 
ture,  Mr.  Wilson,  but  she  will  learn  care  in  time,  I  hope." 

I  had  no  thought  or  observation  for  the  mischief  done,  for  I 
had  seen  the  glance  that  went  from  child  to  parent.  It  was 
present  with  me  for  hours  and  days — stamped  indelibly  upon  my 
recollection  by  a  horrible  nightmare  that  visited  me  in  the  trou- 
bled sleep  of  that,  and  more  than  one  succeeding  night  ;  the 
apparition  of  this,  my  dearly-loved  friend,  decked  in  her  bridal 
attire  ;  that  scorching  gleam  in  her  eyes — crying  in  sepulchral 
accents  that  chilled  my  blood — "  Woe  unto  them  that  call  evil 
good,  and  good  evil  ;  that  put  darkness  for  light,  and  light  for 
darkness  ;  that  put  bitter  for  sweet,  and  sweet  for  bitter  1 
Woe 


MOBS-SIDE  29 


CHAPTER  III. 

WE  had  a  fatiguing  day's  journey,  but  one  full  of  pleasant 
excitement  and  at  even,  the  sun  went  down  behind  Mount 
Washington,  quenching  its  burning  life  in  an  ocean  of  crimson 
glory,  whose  waves  bathed  many  a  pure  cloud-islet. 

The  driver  of  our  vehicle — a  large,  open  wagon,  mounted  upon 
springs,  and  furnished  with  cushioned  seats — was  a  weather- 
beaten  mountaineer,  proud  of  his  native  hills  ;  and  in  the  course 
of  our  ride,  he  had  become  imbued  with  a  thorough  respect  for  a 
party  whose  admiration  was  so  constantly  and  energetically 
expressed.  We,  on  our  part,  were  inclined  to  cultivate  the 
good-will  of  a  man  who  knew  the  history  of  every  rock  and  tree 
on  the  route,  and  whose  traditionary  lore  was  varied  and  exten- 
sive enough  to  put  to  shame  a  library  of  "  Traveller's  Guides." 
He  answered  every  query  ;  humored  every  caprice,  and  had 
found  it  convenient  to  halt  in  the  prettiest,  most  romantic  glen 
on  the  way,  to  allow  us  to  eat  our  luncheon,  because  May  cried 
out,  "  What  a  lovely  spot  for  a  pic-nic  1" 

"  The  horses  are  as  ready  for  their  feed  as  human  creturs,  I 
guess,"  was  his  excuse  for  declining  our  united  thanks  for  the 
favor,  and  others  were  as  ready  when  we  were  seized  with  a 
fancy  to  walk  down  a  mountain,  or  to  feast  upon  the  wild  rasp- 
oerries  that  reddened  whole  acres  of  tangled  vines. 

We  had  just  emerged  from  a  wooded  defile  into  a  cleared 
plaiu  as  the  day-god  disappeared,  and  the  general  exclamation 
of  delight  acted  instantaneously  upon  the  reins.  He  said  no- 
thing  this  time  of  tired  horses  or  steep  roads.  The  scene  waa 


30  M086-8IDE. 

ample  apology  for  the  pause.  With  one  consent,  acknowlelged 
bnt  unuttered,  we  arose,  Herbert  and  Frederic  removing  theii 
hats.  Right  before  us  was  the  venerable  patriarch  of  the  chain, 
his  iron-grey  head  bold  and  stem  against  the  flaming  back 
ground,  undaunted  by  the  storms  of  thousands  of  winters,  and 
feady,  in  his  majestic  might,  to  battle  with  thousands  more. 
Now,  for  the  first  time,  I  realized  the  sublimity  of  the  expres- 
sion, "  the  everlasting  hills."  It  was  less  difficult  to  believe  that 
the  changeful  sky  hung  above  them  could  "  be  rolled  together 
like  a  scroll,"  the  "  heavens  pass  away  with  a  great  noise," 
than  that  their  granite  fronts  should  tremble  and  bow,  their 
foundations,  rooted  in  the  very  bowels  of  the  earth,  be  moved. 

How  vividly  arises  to  my  remembrance  the  countenance  and 
posture  of  each  of  our  select  company  !  May  Seaton,  standing 
upon  the  seat  where  Frederic  had  placed  her  that  she  might 
have  an  unobstructed  view,  a  solemnity  that  verged  upon  awe 
^tilling  her  breath  and  chastening  her  smile  ;  my  brother,  with 
aager  eye  and  dilated  nostril,  taking  in  every  object  with  the 
ardor  of  one  whose  love  for  Nature  was  unsated  and  unrestrained  : 
Herbert's  lofty  figure,  statue-like  in  its  quiet,  towering  above  us  all, 
bis  features  eloquent  of  calm  delight,  and  in  his  eyes  a  gleam  of 
glad  recognition,  and  an  upward  look  that  was  almost  adoration. 
Louise's  seat  was  directly  back  of  mine,  and  the  rapid  glance 
that  daguerreotyped  the  rest,  showed  me  a  marble  visage  ;  but 
never  through  sculptured  stone  shone  such  a  light  as  beamed 
from  her  awakening  soul.  If  the  heart  were  dead,  the  intellect, 
with  all  its  exquisite  susceptibility  to  beauty,  its  grand  capacities, 
its  undying  desires,  lived  still,  and  its  expansion,  its  longings  in 
this  hour  were  painful  in  their  intensity. 

Mr.  Wilson  approved  of  the  landscape,  for  he  smiled  at  me 
ind  inquired  if  I  "  did  nut  think  it  very  fine  ?" 

Even  the  uneducated  driver  comprehended  that  the  magii 
nUeiice  was  at  an  end. 


MO88-8IDK.  31 

"  I  guess  you've  seen  it  'most  long  enough,"  he  said,  ratlief 
curtly,  as  he  flourished  the  whip  about  his  leaders'  ears. 

"  How  far  are  we  from  our  stopping-place  ?"  asked  Mr.  \Vil 
son,  yawningly. 

"  Fifteen  miles,  over  a  rough  road,"  was  the  reply  "  It  wil 
some  on  moonlight  though,  presently  ;  and  there's  some  of  yoi 
won't  think  the  ride  too  long.  Be  you  hungry,  sir  ?" 

"  Not  yet  ;  but  as  I  have  had  no  dinner,  and  only  a  light 
luncheon,  I  shall  be  ravenous  by  supper-time." 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder,"  said  the  shrewd  Yankee,  with  an 
emphasis  more  significant  than  polite. 

The  moon  was  round  and  bright  in  the  East  before  the  West 
was  grey,  and  our  four  gallant  horses  bore  us  on  surely  and 
steadily,  if  not  fleetly. 

"  There's  good  singing-ground  at  the  bottom  of  this  hill," 
observed  the  driver,  looking  over  his  shoulder. 

We  laughed,  for  we  understood  the  hint.  He  had  lent,  tt 
pleased  ear  to  several  songs  and  glees  with  which  we  had  made 
the  mountains  echo  from  time  to  time  in  the  earlier  part  of  the 
day,  and  this  was  his  flattering  "  encore."  As  the  wheels  touched 
the  level  road,  May's  voice  began  that  most  familiar  and  dear  of 
evening  lyrics — "  Twilight  dews."  Louise  and  her  husband  did 
not  join  in  our  chorus.  The  one  was  silent  through  choice,  the 
other  from  necessity.  The  horses  trotted  softly,  and  their  mas- 
ter's hands  were  relaxed.  The  nearest  heights  took  up  the  rising 
melody,  and  repeated  it  to  others  more  remote,  until,  in  broken 
snatches,  it  came  back  to  us,  like  messages  from  the  far-off  sum- 
mits which  were  the  goal  of  our  journeyings. 

"  Hallo,  there  !  turn  out  1" 

The  call  so\mded  from  a  gloomy  pass,  whose  descent  we  had 
commenced.  For  a  second,  a  host  of  absurd  fears  rushed  over  me  : 
nursery  tales  of  banditti,  and  highwaymen,  and  haunted  glens- 
terrors  that  fled  as  precipitately  at  our  'Iriver's  assured  tone  of 
reply. 


32  MOSS-BIDE. 

"  Hallo,  there,  yourself  !  what's  broke  ?" 

4  more  pertinent  query  could  not  have  been  construct  eel 
In  the  middle  of  the  road  lay  a  wagon  upon  its  side,  upset  bj 
the  breaking  of  a  wheel.  Its  master  had  untackled  his  team, 
nd  was  now  engaged  in  gathering  the  scattered  baggage  and 
cushions.  On  the  other  side  of  the  wreck,  at  the  elevation  of 
half  a  dozen  feet  from  the  ground,  twinkled  something  like  a 
email  red  star,  which  never  moved  while  the  colloquy  between 
the  drivers  made  known  to  us  the  cause  and  extent  of  the  disas- 
ter. A  Will-o'-the-wisp  would  not  have  remained  stationary  so 
near  to  us,  nor  does  that  naughty  imp  regale  himself  with  such 
choice  incense  as  crept  to  our  olfactories  from  the  meteoric 
phenomenon  aforesaid 

"  Well,  now  1"  said  our  guide,  at  last  ;  "  What  do  you  calcu- 
late to  do  ?  You  are  in  considerable  of  a  fix." 

11  Well,  I  guess,  if  you  can  find  room  for  my  passenger  and  his 
3ontrivauces,  or  for  him  without  'em,  we  will  haul  the  wagon  up 
into  the  bushes,  and  I  can  take  the  horses  back  home  to-night 
Some  of  the  boys  will  come  over  with  me  betimes  in  the  morn- 
ing and  fix  up  things.  Maybe,  though,  you  don't  fancy  such  a 
heavy  load." 

"  I  aint  afraid  of  my  team  and  wagon,  without  my  passengers 
object,"  remarked  the  other,  in  a  louder  voice. 

"  By  no  means  1"  responded  Herbert,  springing  to  the  ground 
and  approaching  the  luminous  point,  which  was  instantly  changed 
to  a  falling  star,  and  lay  flashing  its  last  sparks  in  the  dust. 

"  We  consider  ourselves  very  fortunate,  sir,  in  having  arrived 
in  time  to  offer  you  a  seat  in  our  conveyance,"  pursued  Herbert 
'  We  have  room  for  your  trunks  also,  our  baggage  having  bee» 
lent  on  in  the  stage.  It  might  inconvenience  you  to  leave  them 
hero,  a«  your  driver  proposes." 

"  A  little,  I  grant,  sir,"  said  a  voice,  that  in  spite  of  its  slight 
foreign  accent,  did  not  seem  strange  to  me  ;  and  there  advanced 
into  the  moonlight,  a  figure  "early  as  tall  as  Herbert's  own 


MOSS-BIDE.  33 

*  But,  although  deeply  grateful  for  your  kindness,  I  cajnnot  think 
of  burdening  your  carriage  with  what  my  worthy  conductor  here 
calls  my  '  contrivances.'  I  dare  say  he  can  forward  them  to-mor- 
row, and  for  the  night,  they  will  be  s-tfe  where  they  are.  i 
•ic  oept  a  seat  for  myself  with  great  pleasure." 

In  this  speech,  I  could  not  but  note  the  incongruity  of  his  easy 
ise  of  English  idioms  and  the  accent  I  have  mentioned.  He 
yicl'lcd  gracefully  to  Herbert's  reiteration  of  both  clauses  of  his 
offer,  and  his  assurance  that  we  would  not  suffer  by  his  com- 
pliance with  them.  The  trunks  were  stowed  away  under  the 
seats,  and  with  the  stranger  on  the  bench  with  Herbert  and 
myself,  we  began  climbing  another  ridge. 

ID  the  glimpses  of  light  that  fell  through  the  trees  I  could  see 
that  our  guest  was  wrapped  from  head  to  foot  in  a  furred  cloak, 
as  a  protection  from  the  chill  night  air,  from  which  precaution  I 
concluded  that  he  had  been  accustomed  to  a  more  salubrious 
climate.  His  travelling  cap  was  slouched  and  brought  forward 
over  his  brow  and  eyes  ;  but  now  and  then  I  caught  a  glance 
that  startled  me  by  its  brightness.  Few  Americans,  at  that 
day,  had  adopted  the  transatlantic  fashion  of  beard-disguise  ; 
and  his  visible  contempt  for  the  tonsorial  art  proclaimed  hia 
un-Republican  principles  upon  this  head.  The  conversation, 
commenced  by  Herbert  out  of  politeness,  was  soon  a  source  of 
hvely  pleasure  to  all  who  could  hear  it.  May  and  Frederic 
were  so  far  back  that  the  noise  of  the  wheels  drowned  what  was 
said  by  those  on  the  front  seat  before  it  reached  them  ;  but  from 
the  tones  that  greeted  our  ears  when  our  road  was  smooth  or 
our  progress  slow,  we  were  led  to  believe  them  in  blissful  igno- 
•ance  of  their  deprivation,  and  did  not  make  any  useless  expendi 
ure  of  our  sympathy.  I  was  glad  to  perceive  that  Louise  wal 
an  interested  listener,  also  that  Mr.  Wilson's  heavy  breathing  in 
the  slumber  that  overtook  him,  did  not  appear  to  be  observed 
by  the  entertaining  Frenchman.  That  this  was  his  nationality, 
2* 


84  M08S-8IUE. 

and  his  breeding  Parisian,  I  speedily  determined  to  my  own 
satisfaction.  In  learning,  the  arts  and  light  literature,  he  was 
cosmopolitan.  Herbert,  as  has  been  said,  had  received  a  classi- 
cal education,  to  which  travel  and  reading  had  added  much  that 
was  valuable  and  ornamental.  The  stranger  proved  himself  an 
adept  in  ordinary  surface  conversation,  before,  with  inimitable 
address,  he  applied  the  touchstone  flint,  and  struck  fire  from  the 
iteel  whose  existence  his  discerning  mind  had  suspected. 

For  myself,  although  I  said  very  little,  and  that  only  in  reply 
to  *he  courteous  attentions  of  my  companions,  that  three  hours; 
ride  in  the  mountain  moonlight  was  a  season  of  the  purest  intel- 
lectual gratification.  The  wild  variety  of  scenery  ;  the  virgin 
forest,  in  whose  impenetrable  jungles  the  owl  and  whip-poor-will 
held  dismal  concert  ;  the  giant  hemlocks,  clasping  arms  over  us,  as 
if  they  grudged  the  usurper  Man,  the  narrow  pass  he  had  hewed 
through  the  wilderness  ;  the  brawling,  streams  that  leaped  and 
lashed  over  our  way,  and  laughed,  in  mocking  defiance,  from 
rocky  beds  no  human  foot  had  ever  trodden  ;  the  open  valleys, 
flooded  with  moonbeams  and  girt  with  Alpine  heights — all  were 
accessories  to  my  enjoyment.  It  was  with  a  sigh  of  regret  that 
I  looked  up  at  the  frowning  walls  cf  the  Notch,  and  passed 
through  the  stupendous  gateway,  for  I  was  told  that  our  stop- 
ping-place for  the  night  was  just  beyond. 

The  tired  horses  quickened  their  gait  ;  Mr.  Wilson  shook  him 
self  and  stood  up  to  survey  the  hotel,  with  a  fervent  ejaculation 
of  thankfulness  ;  and  we  drew  up  before  a  well-lighted  house, 
whose  dimensions,  although  respectable  in  reality,  were  woefully 
insignificant  to  eyes  that  had  gazed  so  long  upon  objects  mea 
tared  by  miles  instead  of  feet. 

"  I  am  as  hungry  as  a  wolf,"  said  Mr.  Wilson,  stretching  hi 
cramped  limbs  after  alighting.  "  I  have  be»n  dreaming  of  eating 
for  the  last  hour.  I  thought  we  had  venison  and  cla  <}t  for  sup 
per-— not  a  bad  idea — hey,  Wynne  ?" 


MOSB-SIDL  35 

Oar  wayside  windfall  did  not  appear  at  the  table  to  which  we 
prtsen'ly  sat  down  ;  therefore  he  formed  the  principal  topic  o'~ 
discussion.  Mr.  Wilson  had  his  say  in  this  matter,  and  deserved 
'he  more  credit  for  his  communicativeness  since  he  was,  as  he 
protested,  "  amazingly  sharp-set."  He  had  found  the  gentle- 
man s  name  inscribed  directly  beneath  those  of  our  party.  It 
was  "  H.  Dnmont."  We  saw  no  more  of  him  that  evening  ;  but 
vhen  Herbert  knocked  at  the  door  the  next  morning,  to  call 
May  and  myself  to  breakfast,  he  told  us  that  Mr.  Diimont  had 
exchanged  cards  with  him,  and,  at  his  request,  was  now  await- 
ing the  ladies  in  the  parlor. 

I  did  not  like  our  nocturnal  acquaintance  so  well  by  daylight, 
without  being  able  to  assign  a  satisfactory  reason  for  ray  disap- 
pointment. He  was  older  than  I  had  supposed  when  I  saw  him 
by  the  moon  and  lamplight,  for  the  frost  had  not  quite  spared 
his  curling  auburn  beard,  and  I  was  sure  that  the  abundant  head 
of  hair  was  not  his  by  right  of  original  growth.  There  waa 
something  in  the  protracted  look,  with  which  he  honored  me  at 
our  introduction,  that  did  not  please  me  ;  and  I  imagined,  more- 
over, that  his  manner  was  less  affable  to  Frederic  than  to  Her- 
bert, being  tinctured  with  a  sort  of  hauteur,  amounting,  I  should 
aave  said,  tv  dislike,  had  not  the  idea  been  too  ridiculous.  The 
high-spirited  youth  received  a  like  impression,  and  formed  a  pre- 
judice against  him  before  breakfast  was  dispatched.  But,  apart 
from  these  fanciful  censures  of  ours,  we  could  not  but  concede  to 
him  the  title  of  a  finished  gentleman.  Herbert  and  Louise 
seemed  particularly  drawn  towards  him.  He  escorted  the  latter 
back  to  the  parlor  ;  and  while  Mr.  Wilson  puffed  his  Havana  in 
the  piazza,  and  watched  the  uncouth  gambols  of  a  bear,  chained 
to  a  pole  upon  what  was  denominated,  by  courtesy,  the  lawn, 
the  courtly  Parisian  charmed  his  wife  into  forgetfulness  of  his 
very  existence  by  his  dazzling  play  of  wit  and  sentiment. 

I  was  looking  out  of  the  window  in  the  direction  of  ths 
Notch,  when  Herbert  joined  me. 


36  MOSS-BIDE. 

"  We  have  accidentally  procured  a  valuable  addition  to  ooi 
number,"  he  remarked.      "There  is   a   species   of  fascinatioi 
about  the  man  that  tempts  me  to  profess  a  belief  in  his  theorj 
f  animal  magnetism.     Do  you  not  like  him  ?" 

"  I  admire  him,"  I  said,  hesitatingly. 

He  smiled.  "  You  are  cautious  of  allowing  strangers  a  place  in 
your  affections  ;  you  do  not  permit  them  to  pass  within  the 
outer  court  without  strict  examination  of  their  credentials,  and 
personal  knowledge  of  their  merits.  Am  I  right  ?" 

"  You  commend  me  for  more  discretion  than  I  possess,"  I  replied. 

Those  who  are  worldly-wise  warn  me  that  the  gates  of  my 
heart  are  too  readily  opened.  But  the  case  in  question  is  not 
one  of  the  affections — hardly  of  acquaintanceship.  I  want  a 
word  to  express  the  relation  which  this  Mr.  Dumont,  to  whom  I 
was  introduced  an  hour  ago,  bears  to  me  " 

An  admonitory  sign  advised  me  to  bridle  my  tongue.  May 
and  Frederic,  equipped  for  a  ramble,  were  talking  with  Louise, 
and  Mr.  Dumont  was  crossing  the  room  towards  us.  Herbert 
did  not  allow  me  to  be  embarrassed. 

"Miss  Leigh  is  saying,  Mr.  Dumont,  that  our  language  is  bar- 
ren of  words  to  signify  the  many  degrees  of  acquaintanceship, 
liking  and  friendship.  She  thinks,  and  justly,  that  the  raero 
pronunciation  of  the  name  and  style  of  Mr.  Smith  to  Mr.  Jen- 
kins, and  vice  versa,  cannot  be  said,  in  fact,  to  make  these 
gentlemen  '  acquainted,'  a  term  which  our  lexicons  define  as 
'  known — familiarly  known.'  " 

"  I  concur  in  her  criticism  and  yours,"  said  Mr.  Dumont ; 
"  and  its  justice  becomes  more  apparent  if  we  follow  up  the 
ntercourse  of  the  aforementioned  worthies,  until  they  deserve 
he  appellation  bestowed  upon  them  at  first  sight.  They  shakt 
hands  now,  when  they  meet,  instead  of  exchanging  formal  bows 
Jenkins  thinks  Smith  '  a  clever  fellow/  and  asks  him  to  diunei 
to-day  at  his  hotel  ;  a  courtesy  which  Smith  considers  himself 
under  obligations  to  reciprocate  by  inviting  him  to  a  supper  of 


M0888IDE.  61 

champagne  and  oysters  to-morrow  night,  in  a  note  beginning 
'  Dear  Sir,'  and  signed,  '  Truly  yours.'  The  liking,  of  which 
Miss  Leigh  speaks  as  the  second  grade  of  initiation  into  the 
brotherhood  of  soul  and  heart,  .has  now  begun,  as  both  are 
ready  to  attest  when  they  arise  from  the  convivial  board.  The 
next  billet  will  commence,  '  My  dear  Friend  ' — '  and  my  friend, 
Mr.  Smith,'  comes  naturally  and  frequently  from  Jenkins'  lips. 
Some  fine  morning  he  reads -in  the  day's  Journal  or  Herald  of 
the  untimely  and  lamented  decease  of  Alphonso  Smith,  Esq. 
4  Ah,  poor  fellow  1  who  would  have  thought  it  ?'  and  if  he  be 
very  tender-hearted,  he  breathes  a  sigh  to  his  faithful  cigar,  as 
he  turns  the  sheet  to  inspect  the  list  of  '  prices  current.'  You, 
Mr.  Wynne,  are  young  and  fortunate  enough  to  believe  friend- 
ship something  more  than  a  name.  You  may  have  a  soul-brother, 
in  whose  joys  you  rejoice,  hi  whose  woes  you  are  afflicted  ;  your 
time,  your  fortune,  your  life,  if  need  be,  are  his.  You  would 
mourn  his  death  as  the  greatest  calamity  that  could  befall  yon 
— yet  you  have  no  single  word  to  describe  this  other  self,  excep*. 
the  identical  one  used  by  the  bereaved  Jenkins." 

"  I  dispute  his  right  to  employ  it,"  said  Herbert.  "  Smiti 
was  his  companion  " 

"  Which  is  in  common  use  as  a  synonym  fcr  husband  or  wife,' 
interrupted  Mr.  Dumont.  "  In  French,  he  was '  un  bon  camarade , 
in  Latin,  his  sodus — the  English  is  wanting.  Associate,  crony 
chum — neither  of  these  is  precisely  what  you  need." 

"  But  abused  and  weakened  though  it  is,  by  indiscriminate 
ose,  'Friend'  is  a  grand,  a  glorious  name,"  replied  Herbert, 
"  and  I,  for  one,  never  speak  it  unless  when  my  heart  goes  forth 
:u  its  utterance." 

"  Take,  then,  the  advice  of  one  who  has  seen  more  of  the  evil 
in  mankind  than  you  ever  dreamed  of,  and  speak  it  as  rarely 
as  possible,"  said  the  stranger  in  a  tone  of  melancholy  sweetness. 
"  This  counsel  is  distasteful  to  you,  I  see,  but  my  word  for  it 


38  MOSS-SIDE. 

if  you  and  Miss  '^eigh  live  twenty  years  longer,  you  will  r evew 
my  numory  as  that  of  a  prophet." 

One  of  those  sudden  clouds  that  often  surprise  the  travelled 
in  mountainous  regions  rolled  over  the  sun,  and  the  ail  became 
ctld  and  damp. 

"You  shiver!"  observed  Mr.- Dumont  to  me.  "Allow  me 
to  lower  this  window,  and  set  your  chair  out  of  the  draught 
This  climate  is  as  fickle  as  Fortune." 

He  closed  the  sash,  and  took  a  stand  nearer  to  me.  I  seemed 
to  grow  colder  in  his  shadow  than  in  that  of  the  cloud.  Thero 
was  a  general  movement  of  shutting  doors  and  windows,  for  the 
mist  was  thickening  fast,  and  penetrated  everywhere.  Herbert, 
always  thoughtful,  left  the  room  to  get  my  shawl. 

"  You  find  the  changes  of  weather  here  more  trying  than  in 
your  city,  Miss  Leigh  ?"  Mr.  Dumont  said,  turning  a  large  seal- 
ring  he  wore  upon  his  third  finger,  a  trick  of  his,  when  listless 
or  abstracted. 

"  I  certainly  feel  them  more  sensibly  than  do  my  New  York 
friends,"  I  rejoined,  "  for  my  home  is  in  the  South." 

"  Ah  !  I  beg  your  pardon  1  I  understood  from  Mr.  Wynne 
that  his  entire  party  was  from  that  city.  I  have  travelled  in  the 
Southern  States,  and  have  many  most  agreeable  recollections  of 
my  visits  to  New  Orleans,  Savannah  and  Charleston." 

"  Did  you  pass  through  Virginia  ?"  I  inquired. 

"  I  passed  through  it  literally,  for  I  did  not  stop  in  any  place 
within  its  precincts.  I  regret  this  the  more,  since  I  infer  from 
your  question  that  it  is  your  home.  You  bear  a  name  which  no 
student  of  American  history  can  hear  unmoved.  The  Revolu 
tionary  era  produced  few  more  accomplished  orators  or  brave 
men  than  Kichard  Henry  Lee." 

"  I  can  claim  only  a  patriotic  pride  in  his  fame,"  said  1 
w  Not  only  does  the  different  orthography  of  my  name  put  to 
lest  the  subject  of  relationship,  but  my  father's  birth-place,  and 


MOSS-SIDE.  39 

that  of  his  whole  family,  excepting  myself,  is  in  another  State 
—in  Ahbama." 

"  He  reversed  the  common  order  of  emigration  " — with  a  civil 
feint  of  interest.  "The  tide  sets  most  strongly  Westward  and 
Southward." 

"  My  mother's  health  required  the  change,  I  believe,  sir,  and 
after  her  death,  my  father  saw  no  reason  why  he  should  remove 
to  his  former  location,  the  social  institutions  of  the  States  being 
the  samp,  and  the  climate  of  Virginia  the  more  healthy  of  the 
two." 

"  Did  he  accompany  you  North  ?  I  have  some  valued  ac- 
quaintaLces" — he  smiled  as  he  pronounced  the  word — "in  Ala- 
bama, wno  may  likewise  be  his." 

"  He  remained  at  home,  unfortunately — that  is,  for  my  brother 
and  myself,  who,  being  the  youngest  children,  still  reside  with 
him." 

I  was  ashamed  of  having  been  betrayed  by  my  selfish  pleasure 
at  the  mention  of  a  home  and  father  so  beloved,  into  this  tale 
of  family  affairs.  I  would  stop  here,  I  determined,  and  not 
disgrace  myself  by  further  egotism.  He  must  think  me  very 
transparent,  not  to  say  silly.  Yet,  when  he  asked  another 
question  with  respect  and  growing  interest  that  began  to  seen; 
genuine,  I  answered  him  with  the  same  frankness. 

"  Then  you  left  him  alone  ?" 

"  No,  sir.  An  aunt,  who  has  lived  with  us  for  many  years 
is  his  companion." 

Herbert  brought  the  shawl  and  disposed  it  about  my  shoul 
ers  As.  I  thanked  him,  I  met  Mr.  Dumont's  gaze,  and  again 
I  felt  as  if  he  were  the  cloud  that  had  changed  the  warm,  brigh 
day  into  a  drizzling  twilight. 

"Miss  Leigh  and  myself  have  been  speaking  of  Alabami,* 
he  said  to  Herbert,  "you  have  heard  the  circumstance  frcoi 
*hich,  it  is  said,  it  derived  its  name  ?" 


40  MOSS-SI  DH 

11  Not  that  I  know  of,"  was  the  reply.     "  What  was  it  V 

Mr.  Dnmcnt  turned  his  ring,  thoughtfully.  "  According  tfl 
tradition,  a  tribe  of  Indians,  driven  Southward  by  the  advance 
of  civilization,  after  many  weeks  of  toilsome  n/arch,  one  day  at 
e  insetting,  reached  a  lovely  country,  a  sanctuary  un violated  DJ 
the  remorseless  white  man.  On  the  banks  of  a  broad,  uilmly- 
owing  river  where  their  canoes  might  ply  as  they  hoped,  unuoo 
ested  for  ages  ;  in  the  skirts  of  a  forest  where  the  deer  were 
sporting  like  tame  kids,  the  chief  struck  the  pole  of  his  tent 
into  the  earth,  exclaiming,  '  Alabama  !  Alabama  !  (Here  we 
rest)!"' 

"Beautiful  1"  said  Louise,  who  had  come  up  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  legend. 

"Beautiful,  and  very  touching,"  replied  Mr.  Dumont,  "when 
we  reflect  how  fatally  blighted  were  the  anticipations  of  the 
doomed  people.  They  were  in  their  autumn  then,  fading  away, 
but  trusting  that  spring  would  visit  and  revive  them  in  that 
distant,  sunny  land.  Their  winter  is  hopeless.  The  withered 
leaves  that  rustle  now  across  the  Western  prairies  will  not  be 
succeeded  by  others  of  living  green." 

The  rain  forbade  any  sight-seeing  that  forenoon,  but  we  were 
far  from  disconsolate  in  our  imprisonment.  May  and  Frederic — 
a  phrase  which  is  becoming  stereotyped  to  the  reader's  sight, 
as  it  is  upon  my  heart — two  merry  children,  talked,  and  danced, 
and  sang  away  the  hours  ;  Mr.  Wilson  roamed  from  piazza  to 
parlor  (the  bear  having  been  pelted  to  his  kennel  by  the  showers) 
took  a  siesta  after  luncheon,  and  consecrated  the  remainder  of 
his  leisure  to  complacent  adoration  of  his  wife,  who,  gay  and 
earnest  alternately,  indulged  in  a  sprightly  ramble  of  fancy,  or 
held  metaphysical  converse  with  the  singularly  attractive  being 
whom  Fortune  appeared  to  have  sent  to  preserve  her  Jroua 
ennui.  Herbert  was,  of  course,  my  most  constant  attendant^ 
and  we  were  the  reconciling  elements  o*  the  party,  for  May 


M  O  S  8  -  S  I  D  E  .  41 

andesignedlj  taking  her  cue  from  Frederic,  shunned  Mr.  Do- 
mont,  and  had  we  not  formed  the  connecting  links,  our  circlft 
would  have  been  broken  into  separate,  perhaps  antagonists 
parts. 

By  dinner-time  the  vapory  curtain  was  lifted  as  rapidly  as  it 
bad  descended.  From  gorge  and  hill-side  and  mountain-brow 
arose  fantastic  columns  and  wreaths  of  mist ;  some  becoming 
entangled  in  the  tree-tops,  and  after  a  struggle  breaking  away 
with  torn  edges,  to  soar  with  the  rest  to  another  place  of  meet- 
ing, or  to  lose  visible  form  and  substance  in  the  fervid  beams 
cf  the  July  sun. 

A  visit  to  the  Willey  house  was  proposed  for  our  afternoon 
excursion,  and  we  were  so  favored  as  to  obtain  for  teamster  our 
friend  of  the  preceding  day.  We  rattled  down  the  slope  of  the 
mountain  in  exuberant  spirits,  with  scarcely  a  thought  of  what 
we  were  going  to  see,  until  Mr.  Dumont  asked  the  driver  the 
date  of  the  event  that  has  clothed  the  spot  with  mournful  inte- 
rest. 

"  Eighteen  years  ago  next  month,"  was  his  answer.  "I  re- 
member it  as  well  as  if  it  had  been  yesterday." 

"  Was  the  situation  considered  unsafe  before  the  slide  occur- 
red, or  was  it  entirely  unexpected  ?"  questioned  Frederic. 

"  Unsafe,  sir,  as  unsafe  could  be  !  The  Willey s  knew,  and 
everybody  around  here  knew,  that  they  were  in  danger.  Every 
hard  rain  brought  down  rocks  and  earth,  and  sometimes  little 
trees,  and  there  were  big  cracks  in  the  side  of  the  mountain 
back  of  the  house  ;  but,  ah  me  1  its  human  nater*  for  folks  to  get 
venturesome  when  they've  lived  in  dangerous  places  for  awhile, 
nothing  has  happened  to  scare  'em  more  than  common.  We  see 
enough  of  that  every  day  in  the  world,  to  tell  us  not  to  be  hard 
npou  these  poor  wretches  who  paid  for  their  mistake  with  their 
lives." 

We  were  very  quiet  when  we  reached  the  he  use,  whose  asped 


42  MOSS-SIDE. 

of  myste:-  ous  desolation  struck  home  to  our  hearts.  We  step 
ped  lightly  through  the  dismantled  rooms,  and  talked  in  whisperj 
of  the  midnight  tragedy. 

"The  avalan-ihe  was  divided  by  that  rock,"  said  Herbert, 
pointing  from  the  rear  casement  to  a  perpendicular  mass  of  grey 
Btone  ;  "  and  sweeping  to  the  right  and  left,  overwhelmed  the 
unhappy  creatures  who  sought  for  safety  in  the  open  air.  If  they 
had  remained  in  the  house  all  would  have  been  well  ;  but  who 
could  have  foreseen  that  ?" 

"  There  were  nine  of  'em  in  all,"  our  guide  was  saying  to  May. 
"  Two  were  never  dug  out.  The  mother  and  the  youngest  child 
were  carried  a  smart  piece  down  the  valley,  and  were  afterwards 
buried  where  they  were  found — down  there — yonder,  where  you 
see  that  pile  of  stones.  It  was  an  awful  time  !  She  had  an 
awful  death,  but,  woman-like,  she  held  her  baby  tight  to  her  bo 
som  to  the  last.  I  have  heard  say  that  they  could  hardly  sepa- 
rate them,  dead  as  she  was.  That's  a  feeling  never  wears  out  1" 

We  walked  down  the  road  to  the  sepulchre,  and  added  each 
the  customary  offering  of  passers-by  to  the  monument  thus  gra- 
dually raised  in  commemoration  of  a  love  faithful  unto  death. 
Reverent  hands  laid  those  stones,  and  pitying  tears  were  dropped 
at  the  rude  tomb  of  the  humble  cottager,  whose  terrible  fate  and 
maternal  affection  have  made  her  resting-place  a  shrine  to  the 
pilgrim  of  pleasure,  as  to  the  chance  traveller  in  that  lonely  wild. 
That  this  incident  in  the  story  affected  all  minds  most  powerfully 
was  shown  by  Herbert's  remark  after  our  return  to  the  vehicle 

"  How  universal  is  the  testimony  to  the  unchangeable  might  of 
a  mother's  love  !"  he  said  ;  "  and  how  admirable  the  economy  or 
that  Providence,  which  makes  man,  in  his  most  helpless  state 
dependent  for  life  itself  upon  such  an  unfailing  stay  I" 

"  What  do  you  say  to  the  universality  of  this  sentiment  whe* 
you  hear  that  hundreds,  thousands  of  children  are  sacrificed  an 
Dually  to  heathen  gods  ;  that  tho  regular  tribute — fixed  bj 


MOSS-SIDE.  43 

government — of  certain  provinces  to  the  Ganges  that  enriches 
their  lands,  is  a  specified  number  Df  infants  ?  Or,  to  bring  the 
matter  home,  when  you  read  in  the  police  reports  of  your  mo 
ral  Gotham  of  babes  deserted,  maimed,  murdered  by  their  IIK> 
there  ?  When  in  the  very  circle  in  which  you  live,  girls  are  soij 
as  publicly  and  unblushingly  as  was  ever  an  Eastern  slave,  to 
gratify  the  passion  of  their  parents  for  wealth  and  distinction  P 
inquired  Mr.  Dumont. 

The  driver's  honest  face  was  a  picture  at  that  moment.  His 
stare  of  wonderment  and  distrust  of  the  speaker  and  his  auditory, 
his  abhorrence  of  the  community  which  tolerated  such  enormi- 
ties, would  have  excited  the  risibles  of  Mr.  Dumont  himself,  had 
not  his  regards  been  fixed  upon  his  ring,  while  he  waited  for 
Herbert's  reply. 

"  The  fanatical  Hindoo  is  moved  by  the  same  frenzy  that  after 
wards  leads  her  to  cast  herself  under  the  wheels  of  the  idol-cai 
or  upon  the  blazing  suttee.  Reason  and  natural  instinct  are  d«- 
throned  by  superstition.  Nor  do  I  deny  that  every  spark  of  hu 
inanity  may  be  extinguished  by  a  career  of  vice  ;  that  crime  and 
want  may  urge  to  infanticide,  as  well  as  drive  the  God-forsaken 
wretch  to  falsify  a  proverb  as  old  as  the  world  itself — '  All  that 
a  man  hath,  will  he  give  for  his  life.'  As  to  your  last  example, 
moral  perception  and  feeling  are  perverted  by  a  heartless, 
worldly  code,  to  which  you  will  see  the  daughters  bowing  with 
as  eager  servility  as  do  their  unnatural  mothers." 

I  did  not  dare  to  look  at  Louise,  convinced  as  I  was  that  her 
brother's  severity  had  no  intentional  reference  to  her. 

He  went  on  :  "  Argument  upon  this  subject  seems  to  me  ab 
curd.  Almost  every  dwelling  in  the  land  will  afford  you  proo^ 
that  the  instances  you  enumerate  a-e  exceptions  to — I  repeat  n 
—the  universal  rule,  besides  the  more  conclusive  one  of  what 
divines  call  '  internal  evidence.'  Excuse  me  for  citing  an  ego- 
t'stical  illustration.  I,  perhaps,  of  all  heie  present,  have  knowi 


44  MOBB-BIDE. 

least,  personally,  of  a  parent's  love.  My  father  died  before  mjf 
recollection  ;  my  mother,  when  I  was  in  my  fourth  year.  He* 
place  was  supplied  by  the  kindest  guardians  that  Heaven  ever 
sent  to  orphan  ;  but  I  cherish  her  memory  with  more  foudnesa 
than  I  do  that  of  all  the  friends  of  my  youth  and  manhood.  la 
childhood's  trials,  in  the  struggles  of  boyhood,  I  felt  an  irresisti- 
ble consciousness  that  the  only  being  who  could  have  entered" 
fully  into  every  feeling,  consoled  me  in  every  grief,  loved  me 
through  weal  and  woe — the  better  as  I  lost  my  hold  upon  other 
hearts — was  the  gentle,  loving  woman  who  had  gone  to  her  God 
BO  many  years  before.  She  taught  me  to  pray,  and  man  that  I 
am,  I  am  not  ashamed  this  night,  before  I  lay  my  head  upon  my 
pillow,  to  fold  my  hands,  and  upon  my  bended  knees,  repeat, 
1  Our  Father  who  art  in  Heaven.'  If,  as  some  teach,  and  I  love 
to  believe,  the  spirits  of  the  departed  are  permitted  to  minister 
to  the  loved  ones  of  earth,  I  know  that  the  benignant  genius 
who  has  guarded  me  from  evil  when  the  waves  of  temptation  rar 
highest,  is  my  blessed  angel  mother." 

Mr.  Dumont  turned  his  ring  in  silence.  The  upper  part  of  his 
face  was  expressionless,  but  his  moustache  lay  more  heavily  upon 
the  beard  below,  as  if  his  lips  were  compressed. 

Our  sturdy  teamster  drew  the  back  of  his  hand  across  his 
eyes,  and  chirruped  to  his  horses. 

"  Good  for  you,  sir  !"  he  said,  exercising  the  freedom  of  speech 
arrogated  as  his  birth-right,  by  every  free-born,  independent 
American.  "  These  women  are  wonderful  creatures,  take  'em  as 
you  will." 

Mr.  Dumont  glanced  from  him  to  Herbert  disdainfully,  as  tc 
ay,  "  A  fitting  advocate  of  your  side  I" 

Mr.  Wynne  encouraged  the  blunt  New  Hampshire  man. 

"  Wonderfully  good — most  of  them — are  they  not  ?" 

"  Accordin'  to  my  way  of  thinking,  sir,  they  are  too  good — 
the  worst  of  'em — for  men  ;  yet  we  don't  often  treat  them  M 


MOSS-SILK.  *  3 

they  deserve.  I'te  got  an  old  woman  'mong  the  hills,  back  of  ua 
Lore,  that's  worth  ten  of  me,  and  my  old  mother  that's  been  in 
Heaven  this  twenty-odd  years,  was  just  sich  another.  The  best 
of  'em  will  get  worried  sometimes — but  then,  sez  I,  '  let  'em  fly 
round  and  have  their  own  way.'  They'll  get  over  it  sooner,  and 
lire  the  longer  for  bein'  let  alone.  Depend  upon  it  too,  sir,  when 
a  woman  frets,  a  man  would  swear  and  take  to  driuk,  if  he  wa 
in  her  place.  My  wife  jest  worries  enough  to  let  me  know  she 
ain't  a  saint.  She  is  a  little  the  worse  for  weather  and  wear  in 
the  face — none  of  your  fancy  goods,  you  understand — but  a  pa- 
tienter,  harder-working,  cheerfuller  cretur  ain't  to  be  raised  in 
the  country  round  ;  and  if  I  was  to  fall  sick,  or  be  laid  up  with  a 
broken  leg  or  arm,  some  day — bless  your  soul,  sir  !  there's  no- 
thin'  she  would  not  do  for  me.  She's  a  prime  wife — that's  what 
my  old  woman  is  1" 

"  And  she  has  a  prime  husband,  I'll  warrant,"  said  Frederic. 

"  We  can't  be  too  good  to  'em,  sir.  Remember  that,  young 
gentlemen,  if  you  are  ever  so  lucky  as  to  get  married,  as  is  more 
than  likely.  I  know  that  on  my  death-bed,  every  cross  word 
and  look  I've  ever  give  my  wife  will  be  a  pound  of  lead  on  ray 
conscience.  I  had  'most  as  lief  have  a  man's  blood  upon  my 
BOU!  as  a  woman's  broken  heart  ;  'specially  if  she  was  the  one 
I'd  promised  to  '  love  and  cherish '  That's  how  /  feel  in  tin 
matter  1" 


46  MOS8-8IDK. 


CHAPTER  IV 

It  sras  the  morning  after  our  arrival  at  Niagara,  and  1  waa 
awalened  by  May's  voice,  as  she  lightly  warbled  a  roundelay  at 
her  dressing-table.  I  lay  still,  watching  the  movements  of  the 
little  sylph,  as,  unconscious  of  my  observation,  she  combed  out 
her  hair  in  rippling  waves  to  her  waist,  and  looked  at  the  rosy 
face  in  the  mirror,  with  more  indifference  than  others  were  wont 
to  exhibit  in  its  survey.  One  of  her  greatest  charms  was  hei 
ignorance  that  she  possessed  any  worthy  of  note.  I  had  sub 
jected  her  to  the  closest  scrutiny  for  hours,  when,  surrounded  by 
admirers,  she  laughed  and  chatted  with  the  joyous  freshness  of 
a  nature,  unpolluted  by  the  breath  of  the  world  that  had  done 
its  best  to  spoil  her,  yet  never  detected  the  least  symptom  of 
personal  vanity  I  had  loved  her  when  we  were  at  school 
together,  but  my  engrossing  affection  for  my  then  inseparable 
friend  had  prevented  my  doing  justice  to  the  character,  which 
our  daily  association  was  now  unveiling  to  me.  As  Louise 
retired  into  herself,  grew  unapproachable  behind  the  iron-gate 
of  resolute  reserve,  locked  up  the  heart-treasures  she  onco  lav- 
ished upon  me,  the  gentle  May  glided  into  the  vacant  »f-ace, 
healed  the  soreness  of  my  spirit.  There  was  no  flaw  or  cloudy 
mixture  in  this  pearl,  and,  as  my  eyes  followed  her  this  morning 
I  thought,  with  sisterly  pride,  of  one  who  would  seek — wou?d,  1 
hoped,  wear  it  in  his  bosom. 

A  magnetic  sympathy  may  have  influenced  her  to  look  to*  ird 
me  as  this  idea  was  in  my  mind,  for  we  both  blushed  a1  tb« 
of  our  glances. 


U  O  8  B-8  I  D  K.  47 

"I  have  becu  amusing  myself  with  your  profor/.d  sleep,"  she 
**id,  offering  her  ripe,  cherry  lips  for  a  matutinal  kirn.  "  Sleeping, 
while  the  thunder  of  Niagara  is  shaking  your  very  bed,  and  the 
spray  damping  your  pillow  !  And  yesterday  you  were  in  a  tremT 
of  impatience  to  get  the  earliest  glimpse  of  the  mist  that  rise« 
from  it  1  How  will  this  story  do  to  tell  ?  " 

"  The  truth  is,  May,"  I  said,  arranging  myself  in  a  more  com- 
oriably  iudoieui  position,  and  making  of  my  arms  a  cushion  fof 
my  head,  :<  it  is  uncertainty,  suspense,  that  renders  w  impatient. 
I  teasted  my  eyes  in  part  last  evening  ;  took  off  the  edge  of  my 
optic  appetite,  so  to  speak,  and  some  measure  of  delay  is  neces- 
sary to  restore  its  tone.  The  Falls  will  be  here,  and  so  will  we, 
for  several  days  to  come.  I  am  an  epicurean." 

"  I  thought  that  Mr.  Wilson  was  the  most  conscientious  dis- 
ciple of  the  old  heathen  gourmand  in  our  company,"  she  replied, 
"  but  it  appears  you  do  not  despise  his  philosophy." 

"  1  apply  it  more  intellectually — do  me  the  favor  to  add," 
rejoined  I,  pretending  to  be  offended. 

"  Grace,"  pursued  May,  her  small  hands  running  over  with  the 
wealth  of  brown  tresses  she  endeavored  to  bind  up,  while  the 
glass  showed  me  a  very  grave  countenance,  "  some  things  trouble 
me  grievously." 

"  Such  as  what,  my  lady-bird  ?" 

"  Why  did  Louisa  marry  Mr.  Wilson  ?" 

"  Why  do  most  people  marry,  May  ?" 

"  Because  they  love  one  another,  or  imagine  they  do,"  she 
said,  confidently. 

"  And  may  not  Louise  imagine  she  loves  her  husband  ?" 

"  Hardly  ;  I  think  her  indifference  is  unfeigned,  although  how 

ny  one,  a  woman  especially,  can  be  indifferent  in  such  a  rela 

tion  is  a  greater  puzzle  to  me  than  wedding  through  absolute 

ipite  to  accomplish  the  misery  of  the  other  party  by  one's  ovra 

ttnhappiness.    Love  or  hatred  would  be  the  alternatives  with  me  * 


iS  MOSS-SIDE. 

Cordially  as  I  endorsed  this  remark,  I  laughed  at  the  thought 
of  May's  hating  auy  creature  or  thing  in  creation. 

"  It  is  a  pity,"  she  said,  finding  that  I  made  no  rejoinder, 
"that  they  were  ever  'joined  together.'  Louise  has  qualities 
that  would  make  her  the  joy  and  glory  of  a  congenial  mate 
and  Mr.  Wilson  would  be  an  excellent  husband  for  a  woman  of 
a  lower  grade  of  talent  and  less  refinement.  He  is  good-natured, 
easy-tempered  to  a  fault,  and  generous,  besides  haying  really  a 
deep,  rich  heart,  if  he  only  knew  how  to  speak  of  its  abuu- 
dance." 

She  was  in  the  mood  for  talking  seriously,  and  I  would  no? 
itop  her,  wondering,  as  I  did,  when  she  gained  this  insight  into 
a  subject  never  broached  until  now  by  either  of  us,  without  my 
suspecting  that  she  was  on  the  watch. 

"  They  say  that  similarity  of  temper  and  taste  is  requisite  aa 
a  foundation  for  enduring  friendship,"  she  said,  "  and  that  love 
seeks  contrasts  ;  but  I  do  not  listen  to  this.  Unless  there  is  a 
wide  field  of  kindred  sentiments  and  harmonious  traits,  there 
can  be  no  true  soul-union — only  the  mockery  of  a  name,  acknow- 
ledged as  legal  by  man,  disallowed  by  their  own  hearts  and  Ilim 
who  sees  their  secrets." 

"  I  rejoice  that  you  feel  thus,  May  ;  married  or  single,  you 
will  be  none  the  worse  for  right  views  upon  this  point,"  I  added, 
sagely,  seeing  the  quick  crimson  she  turned  from  me  to  conceal, 
and  guessing  that  the  earnestness  of  my  first  sentence  had  created 
the  flow.  "  It  is  not  for  us  to  judge  of  the  motives  that  impelled 
Louise  to  a  step  that  is,  to  us,  unaccountable.  To  neither  of  ua 
would  the  position  we  think  she  occupies  be  endurable,  but  w 
may  hope  for  the  best,  that  we  have  erred  in  our  conclusion,  o. 
that  matters  may  mend  with  her.  Mr.  Wilson  is,  as  you  say, 
man  o'  deep  affections,  which  are  undividedly  hers,  and  his  moral 
w  >rth  is  undisputed.  He  may  yet  win  her  love." 

"  I  trust  it  may  be  so,"  returned  May,  reflectively,  pausing  in 


MO68-8IDE.  49 

hci  toilette,  and  tapping  the  table  with  her  <hair-brud).     Hei 
mind  was  not  yet  unladen. 

"  Grace/'  she  resumed  at  length,  in  a  lower  key,  "  Do  you 
know  that  I  wish  Mr.  Dumont  had  never  crossed  our  path  ?  " 

"  My  dear  I  how  can  he  annoy  you  now,  when  he  left  us  three 
days  ago,  and  all  the  chances  are  that  you  will  never  behold  him 
again  ?  What  harm  has  he  done  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  like  the  influence  he  acquired  over  Louise,"  she 
said,  positively.  "  Do  not  look  so  shocked  !  I  do  not  mean  over 
her  heart,  but  her  head.  The  man  is  utterly  heartless,  Grace, 
and  although  wiser  people  may  sneer  at  my  notion,  I  fed  that 
such  an  one  is  necessarily  a  dangerous  associate.  Then,  when  I 
attended,  as  we  all  did  sometimes,  to  his  novel  theories,  many  of 
which,  Herbert  says,  were  stated  as  the  hypotheses  of  others, 
and  sustained  by  him  for  the  sake  of  argument,  I  could  not  com- 
prehend half  that  he  said,  doubted  and  disliked  what  sense  I 
gleaned.  He  seemed  to  me  to  talk  transcendentalism,  as  your 
brother  called  it,  when  Herbert  was  by,  and  infidelity,  when  he 
was  away.  I  accounted  for  this  upon  the  ground  that  he  feared 
contradiction  from  no  one  else,  since  your  brother  never  noticed 
Ms  lectures  by  a  reply,  and  Louise  most  frequently  sided  with 
him.  You  nor  Herbert  beard  the  most  wicked  of  his  scoflfs  at 
the  '  superstition  of  the  pietists,'  under  which  class,  as  well  as  I 
rould  judge,  he  included  everything  we  honor  as  religious  truth  : 
nor  how  eloquently  he  discoursed  upon  the  '  religion  of  nature,' 
and  the  '  emancipation  of  mind.'  Louise  has  a  stronger  intellect 
than  mine,  and  she  may  have  seen  through  his  sophistry,  while 
ehe  listened  for  the  entertainment  of  her  idle  hours.  I  hope  she 
dil  that  no  evil  fruit  will  spring  from  this  seed,  but  I  would  not 
subject  my  principles  of  thought  and  action  to  the  test  of  asso- 
nation  with  the  accomplished  foreigner  for  worlds." 

"  May  !  dearest !  how  you  talk  !"  I  said,  surprised  at  the 
energy  and  heat  with  which  she  spoke. 
3 


60  MOBS-BIDE. 

"I  should  be  an  infidel  or  a  mauiac  in  a  week  !"  she  affirmed 
"  I  am  afraid  of  him,  Grace,  and  I  wish  Louise  shared  in  this 
fear  I" 

The  breakfast  broke  in  upon  her  speech,  and  in  the  hurried 
preparations  that  ensued,  we  could  not  pursue  a  matter  that 
had  provoked  unprecedented  uneasiness  on  her  part,  which  infec- 
tion had  attacked  me  during  this  conversation. 

Another  bridal  couple  sat  opposite  to  us  at  table  ;  both  very 
young,  very  shy,  and  very  happy.  The  girl-wife  looked  askance 
at  us  under  her  drooping  eye-lashes,  when  her  husband  referred 
to  her  decision  the  question  of  "steak  or  chicken,"  as  if  she 
feared  his  tone  might  reveal  to  us  what  they,  simple  souls  I 
fancied  they  were  guarding  so  well  from  the  surrounding 
strangers  ;  and  as  the  waiter  replied  to  an  inquiry  touching 
the  same  steak,  "  yes,  sir,  rare  and  tender,  sir,"  loud  enough  to 
be  heard  half-a-dozen  chairs  off,  their  guilty  blushes  would  have 
convicted  them  of  the  offences  of  love  and  recent  matrimoay  in 
any  court  of  gossip,  and  suggested  to  any  imagination  a  i  eseni- 
blancc  in  some  particulars  to  the  vaunted  surloin.  In  the  pleni- 
tude of  their  bliss,  they  neglected  the  breakfast  when  it  was 
brought.  Frederic  said  they  would  never  have  known  of  its 
coming,  but  for  the  officious  waiter's  repetition  of  the  laudation 
previously  bestowed  upon  the  beef,  with  the  equally  felicitous 
supplement,  "  Pair  young  spring  chickens,  sir  !"  as  he  slapped 
the  dishes  down  before  them. 

I  am  never  moved  to  laughter  when  I  witness  these  evidences 
of  mutual,  all-absorbing  attachment  in  those  who  have  just 
entered  the  estate  connubial.  No  haven  has  quicksands  or 
nnken  reefs,  and  destructive  indeed  must  be  the  hurricane  tuat 
rrecks  the  boat  so  lately  embarked  upon  these  halcyon  waters 
It  is  meet  that  the  early  hours  of  the  voyage  be  consecrated 
wholly  to  love  and  joy  ;  that  the  youthful  manners  turn  a  deaf 
?.ar  to  the  croakings  of  tempest  and  rocks  from  those  on  shore  ; 


MO88-8IDK.  51 

cautious  JT  disappointed  sages,  whom,  nothing,  they  aver,  could 
induce  to  tempt  the  treacherous  wave  ;  meet  that  the  eyes  of 
each  should  pierce  no  further  than  to  the  glad  face  of  the  other; 
for  what  need  that  the  boiling  surf,  the  tossing,  broken  craft 
npou  the  horizon  should  mar  their  rapture  by  ill-timed  bodings  ? 
It  may  be  that  favoring  winds  and  tranquil  seas  will  be  merci 
ully  vouchsafed  to  them  to  the  end.  There  are  many  to  whom 
Jie  heaven  of  love  has  continued  changeless  through  life  ;  or, 
if  it  changed,  its  variations  were  like  those  the  Southern  tropical 
traveller  hails  in  the  natural  skies,  when  every  day's  journey 
brings  to  his  sight  new  constellations  of  more  brilliant  and 
tender  lustre.  Blessed,  thrice  blessed  they  who,  peacefully 
moored  in  the  evening  of  their  existence,  behold,  most  glorious 
of  all  the  matchless  array,  the  Cross,  starry  emblem  of  their 
faith,  beaming  down  upon  them  with  a  brightness  the  morning 
never  knew  ! 

Louise  and  Mr.  Wilson  were  seldom  suspected  to  be  the  wed- 
ded ones  in  whose  honor  our  tour  was  made.  Mistakes,  divert- 
ing to  the  gentlemen  and  confusing  to  May  and  myself,  were 
of  frequent  occurrence  wherever  we  stopped.  The  very  pair 
whose  late  coupling  was  so  manifest,  and  whose  perceptions  were 
sensitive  by  virtue  thereof,  would,  if  called  upon,  have  singled 
out,  as  the  least  likely  to  sympathize  in  their  happiness,  the 
cold,  proud-looking  lady,  who  did  not  once  during  the  meal, 
bestow  a  smile  or  a  voluntary  word  upon  the  gentleman  next 
to  her.  Mr.  Wilson's  skill  in  table  and  kitchen  mysteries  had 
constituted  him,  par  excellence,  our  taster,  an  office  which  he 
I'-ei-formed  with  a  due  sense  of  its  responsibility. 

"  Don't  eat  that  egg,  Miss  Leigh  !"  he  pleaded  vith  me. 
*'  it  is  a  trifle  too  I  ard,  and  as  indigestible,  of  course,  as  a 
paving-stone.  It  must  have  boiled  four  minutes  at  the  very 
lea.A — perhaps  five.  It  is  disgraceful  to  ony  decent  hotel  to 
have  such  a  thing  ip-ui  the  table." 


52  M  O  8  6  -  8  I  D  K  . 

"1  am  very  well  satisfied  with  it,"  said  I,  dropping  it  into  the 
glass,  but  ho  looked  so  much  concerned  that  I  forbore,  and  let 
him  remoTe  the  obnoxious  object. 

"  Here,  waiter,  another  egg  !  and  see  that  it  does  not  stay  in 
the  water  more  than  three  minutes  and  a  half,  provided  it  ia 
boiling  when  you  put  the  egg  in.  Three  minutes  and  a  half — 
do  you  hear  ?  then  whip  it  out  in  a  twinkling  !  And,  waiter  1 
are  these  the  largest  glasses  you  have  ?" 

"  The  largest  for  eggs — yes,  sir." 

"They  are  too  small.  I  can't  mix  the  egg  properly  But 
*-hey  must  do,  I  suppose.  Yon  can  go,"  laying  his  watch  upon 
*;he  table.  "  In  four  minutes  I  shall  begin  to  look  for  you  back. 
It  is  a  remarkable  fact,  Miss  Leigh,  that  an  egg  cooks  so  much 
in  the  shell  after  it  is  taken  from  the  water.  Hence,  the  neces- 
sity of  opening  it  instantly.  I  have  seen  many  a  one  ruined 
by  standing  a  second  too  long  before  it  is  emptied  into  the  glass. 
Tough  steak,  soaked,  waxy  potatoes,  and  hard-boiled  eggs  give 
me  the  horrors." 

"  Mr.  Wynne  and  myself  were  abroad  at  sunrise,"  remarked 
Frederic  to  me.  "  Some  morning,  while  we  are  here,  we  must 
induce  you  ladies,  and  you,  also,  Mr.  Wilson,  to  follow  our 
example.  You  will  be  amply  compensated  for  the  exertion,  and 
the  sacrifice  of  your  second  nap." 

"  I  suppose  the  Falls  look  very  fine  at  that  time,"  said  Mr. 
Wilson.  "I  think  I  have  heard  or  read  that  they  do.  And  you 
two  gentlemen  felt  quite  poetical,  I  dare  say  ?" 

"  We  kept  it  to  ourselves  if  we  did,"  replied  Herbert,  who 
received  the  .flattest  commonplaces  of  his  friend  with  the  utmost 
good-nature.  "  Our  pockets  were  guiltless  of  sonnets  or  im- 
promptu blank  verse  when  we  returned.  The  poetaster  who 
conld  scribble  on  the  brink  of  Niagara  ought  to  be  thrown  into 
the  rapids  without  a  form  of  trial." 

"  Ta bio-rock  would  be  another  Tarpeian  precipice  under  thii 


MCSS-SIDE.  53 

AW,"  observed  Frederic.  "The  tacocthts  scribendi,  like  «,he 
hydrophobia,  grows  violent  at  the  sight  of  water  ;  and  the 
greater  the  quantity,  the  more  serious  is  the  paroxysm." 

"  Grenville  Mellen  has  not  desecrated  his  subject,"  said 
Louise. 

•'  Because  he  was  a  true  worshipper  in  Nature's  temple,"  an- 
swered her  brother.  "  He  did  not  seat  himself  at  a  convenient 
distance  from  the  '  ocean  leaping  from  the  cloud/  and  protected 
against  the  chance  jets  of  spray  by  an  umbrella — as  we  saw  a 
gentleman  this  morning — fill  the  prepared  clean  leaf  of  his  jour- 
nal with  '  First  impressions/  '  Jottings  of  thought/  or  '  Stan 
zas  upon  beholding  Niagara.'  He  was  content  to  wonder  and 
adore  in  silence.  His  lines,  grand  in  their  truthful  simplicity, 
were  the  echoes  of  the  thunders  that  uttered  their  voices  to  him 
there." 

"  I  wish  this  hotel  was  a  little  further  off  from  them,"  com 
plained  Mr.  Wilson.  "The  noise  is  enough  to  deafen  one. 
Doesn't  it  make  your  head  ache,  Louise  ?" 

"  No,"  she  said,  briefly. 

"That  is  queer,  when  you  are  so  subject  to  nervous  headaches 
Do  you  know,  Miss  Seaton,  that  she  cannot  bear,  at  times,  to 
have  me  step  across  the  room  or  to  come  near  her,  so  much  ia 
she  suffering  from  these  attacks  ?  You  must  eat  heartily, 
Louise,  for  we  shall  be  riding  all  the  forenoon,  and  nothing 
gives  me  a  headache  sooner  than  fasting.  It  would  be  a  capital 
notion  to  take  a  luncheon  with  us.  It  strikes  me  that  a  pic-nic 
among  the  rocks  would  be  what  you  call  picturesque — really 
romantic — hey,  Wynne  ?" 

''  The  tailor  made  a  single  note- 
Heavens  !  what  a  place  to  sponge  a  coat !" 

whispered  Frederic  to  me,  as  we  arose. 
Louise  showed  no  signs  of  mortification  at  the  harmless  peca- 


64  MOSS-SIDE. 

liarities  of  her  liege  lord.  If  we  walked,  she  took  his  arm  ;  if 
we  rode,  accepted  his  escort,  as  she  would  have  done  that  of 
a  lackey  that  knew  his  place.  Once,  that  morning,  we  came 
npon  them  when  no  one  else  was  by.  Louise  sat  on  a  stone,  nol 
far  from  the  brink  of  the  cliff,  looking  down  into  the  abyss  ;  Mr 
Wilson,  near  by,  lolled  upon  the  grass,  and  smoked  at  his  ease 
There  was  a  faint  play  of  enthusiasm  over  his  countenance  ;  and 
he  accosted  us  animatedly — 

"  How  I  wish  I  had  my  gun  !  Did  you  ever  see  a  more  mag- 
nificent chance  for  a  shot  ?"  pointing  to  a  dove,  perched  upon  a 
bough  that  hung  directly  over  the  cataract.  "  I  could  knock 
him  down  with  a  pistol,  even  1" 

"  It  would  be  a  shame  to  kill  her,"  said  Herbert,  admiring  the 
pretty,  fearless  creature,  swinging  with  the  twig  rocked  by  the 
rushing  waters  ;  her  plumage  glistening  with  mist  from  the 
caldron  seething  whitely,  hundreds  of  feet  beneath  her.  "  Inno- 
cence should  be  safe  everywhere." 

"It  is  a  male  bird — why  do  you  say  for?"  conected  Mr 
Wilson.  "  Are  you  afraid  of  fire-arms,  Miss  Leigh  ?" 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  I  replied. 

"  Are  you  tired  ?"  he  then  asked. 

Again  I  responded  in  the  negative. 

"  It  is  surprising — one  of  the  most  surprising  things  in  ti_e 
world,  what  powers  of  endurance  you  ladies  have,"  he  pursued. 
"  There's  my  wife,  now,  whom  I  used  to  think,  in  our  courting 
days,  could  not  walk  three  blocks  to  save  her  life.  She  has 
broken  me  down,  scrambling  up  and  down  these  rocks,  and 
frightened  me  out  of  my  senses  by  venturing  into  all  manner  of 
dangerous  places.  Lend  me  that  spy-glass,  if  you  please,  Wynne. 

He  examined  something  upon  the  other  shore  with  grav 
•Mention. 

"  They  are  putting  up  a  handsome  building  over  there.     1 
what  it  is  for — a  hotel  or  dwelling-house  ?" 


MOSS-SIDE.  52 

'  U  is  probably  a  factory,"  said  Frederic,  joining  as.  "  There 
if  a  sufficient  head  of  water  in  the  Horse  Shoe  Fall  to  keep  the 
machinery  going  in  the  dryest  weather." 

'•  It  is  hardly  near  enough  to  the  bank  for  that,"  returned  ih( 
fc-rral  bridegroom  not  noticing  the  general  smile.  "And  now 
(  look  again,  it  is  tot  elegant  an  affair  to  be  used  as  a  factory 
I  should  like  very  much  to  know  who  intends  to  live  there.  He 
must  be  a  millionaire,  but  his  taste  is  not  mine.  Rather  a  damp 
situation,  I  should  say.  The  very  table-cloths  and  napkins  here 
are  never  dry,  and  the  sheets  are  wet  enough  to  give  one  the 
rheumatism — I  would  not  stay  here  through  the  summer  for  five 
hundred  dollars  a  week,  and  in  winter — ugh  !" 

I  passed  on  to  Louise's  side.  Her  eyes  were  moist,  yet  flash 
ing,  aud  her  face  wore  the  excited  pallor  I  had  marked  the  even 
ing  of  the  sunset  behind  Mount  Washington.  She  did  not  stir 
as  I  approached,  and  I  sat  down  by  her  without  a  word  of  inter- 
ruption. Thus  the  others  left  us  for  a  long  while.  The  spray 
dashed  up  to  us,  every  now  and  then  ;  and  to  our  brows  it  was 
the  baptism  of  Holy  Mother  Nature,  purifying  us  for  devotion 
in  this,  her  most  wondrous  of  cathedrals,  from  which  volumes 
of  incense  arise  unceasingly  to  heaven,  and  deep,  misrhty  organ 
tones  swell  the  sublime  anthem — "  The  Lord  God  Omnipotent 
reigneth  forever  and  ever — Hallelujah  I" 

I  repeated  it  aloud  almost  unconsciously. 

Louise  laid  her  hand  on  mine.  "  Thank  you  !"  was  all  she 
Baid,  while  her  face  was  yet  more  radiantly  beautiful. 

I  love  to  think  of  that  last  soul-communion,  although  the  bla^-', 
iron  bars  over  her  heart  were  stern  as  ever. 

"  Louise,"  said  her  husband's  voice,  "  are  you  not  tiled  of 
this  one  prospect  ?  I  am  afraid  you  are  catching  your  death  of 
Cold,  sitting  here.  Why,  your  dress  is  heavy  with  the  dampness  • 
I  shall  never  forgive  myself  for  not  looking  after  yon  sooner. 

She  drew  her  shoulder  from  under  his  hand,  and  remained  still 
as  before. 


56  MOSS-SIDE. 

"  My  dear,"  he  urged,  anxiously,  "  this  is  awfully  imprudent 
Had  not  you  better  go  back  to  the  hotel  at  once  for  dry  cloth- 
ing ?  You  can  come  here  again  some  other  time.  Dinner  will 
be  ready  in  half  an  hour." 

She  broke  from  him,  and  darted  forward  to  the  very  edge  of 
the  precipice.  For  an  instant,  I  expected  to  see  her  disappear 
over  the  dizzy  height,  for  I  had  seen  her  look — the  same  that 
had  haunted  me  on  her  wedding  night. 

Mr.  Wilson  stood  paralyzed — pale  as  death— too  much  terri- 
fied to  move,  even  to  snatch  her  from  the  perilous  spot. 

"  Louise  1"  said  her  brother's  voice,  in  an  accent  of  command 
and  he  walked  very  slowly  towards  her. 

She  met  him  half-way  to  us. 

"  She  needs  a  keeper,"  he  said,  laughingly,  as  he  brought  he' 
back.  "  See  that  you  prove  a  more  watchful  one  in  future, 
Wilson.  Some  heads  are  not  to  be  trusted  in  high  places." 

I  could  see  that  this  jesting  was  forced  ;  nor  was  he  quite 
himself  for  the  rest  of  the  day. 

Louise's  room  was  more  desirable  than  mine  ;  being  a  large 
apartment  in  the  same  story  with  the  parlors  ;  its  windows  open- 
ing down  to  the  floor,  and  out  upon  the  piazza  that  formed  the 
principal  promenade  of  visitors.  That  evening,  I  slipped  awa} 
from  the  company  to  write  a  home-letter,  and,  by  Louise's  per- 
mission, took  my  desk  into  this  chamber.  I  had  nearly  concluded 
the  task,  leisurely  accomplished,  and  interrupted  by  sundry  fits 
of  dreaminess — for  I  was  thoughtful  as  well  as  happy — when 
Louise  entered.  She  "  had  been  dancing,"  she  said,  with 
unequal  breath  and  heightened  color,  and  "  had  torn  one  of  the 
flounces  of  her  dress  from  the  skirt."  I  made  her  sit  quietly,  to 
rest,  while  I  mended  it.  She  talked  incessantly. 

"  You  are  a  sober  mope  !"  she  said.  "  Why  could  you  not 
wait  until  to-morrow  to  pen  that  important  document  ?" 

"  The  mail  is  closed  at  nine  o'clock,"  I  answered.  "  If  I  hap 
pened  to  overslonp  myself,  I  should  miss  it." 


HOBS-SIDE.  57 

"  1  thought  you  said  you  were  going  to  write  to  your  father  I 
There  are  six  pages  !" 

"  They  are  all  for  his  reading.  I  should  not  presume  so  much 
cpon  the  patience  of  any  other  correspondent." 

"  Is  this  done  from  a  sense  of  duty,  or  do  you  wish  to  per 
lane  me  that  you  prefer  the  occupation  to  the  amusements  w« 
frivolous  butterflies  are  carrying  on  in  the  ball-room  ?" 

"  What  a  question  1  I  love  to  write  to  him,  and  his  answers 
are  more  acceptable  to  me  than  any  other  gift  I  could  receive  in 
nay  absence." 

"  Is  he  kind  to  you  ?" 

"  He  is  the  best,  most  affectionate  parent  that  child  ever  had 
I  love  as  much  as  I  respect  him." 

"  And  you  are  hoping,  perhaps,  that  you  will  never  quit  him 
unless  to  marry  some  one  whom  you  hold  dearer  yet  ?  Did  it 
ever  occur  to  you  that  this  loving  father  may  controvert  your 
designs  in  that  respect  ?  that,  although  your  happiness  now 
seems  to  be  his  chief  aim  in  life,  when  an  issue  of  that  nature  is 
raised,  he  will  not  scruple  to  overthrow  your  air-castles — to  teach 
you  that  this  is  a  world  of  realities,  unsuited  to  the  growth 
of  romance  ?  What  will  you  do  then  ?  what  can  you  do  ? 

Was  this  my  Louise  who  questioned  me  so  mockingly — so 
cruelly  ?  Infinitely  preferable  would  have  been  the  bitter  scorn, 
the  vehemence  that  so  distressed  me  in  the  narration  of  her 
heart-history.  And,  as  I  looked  up  reproachfully  into  her  face, 
she  repeated  with  a  frozen,  worldly  smile — "What  will  you 
do?" 

"  I  trust  that  such  a  trial  will  never  visit  me.  I  cannot  stretch 
my  imagination  to  the  extent  of  believing  that  it  will,  therefor 
I  cannot  settle  upon  my  probable  line  of  conduct." 

"  Why  should  you  be  exempt  ?"  she  said.  "  Every  gir 
has  some  love-cross." 

"  Mine  will  take  some  other  form  then.     My  father  would  not 
3* 


68  MOSB-SlDK. 

oppose  my  choice,  if  i*  were  a  wise  one.  I  confide  not  in  hit 
affection  alone,  bnt  in  his  justice.  If  he  conld  forget  both,  it 
would  still  be  my  dnty  to  submit  to  hir  will." 

"Wherever  it  forced  you  to  go  ?" 

44 No  I"  I  said,  firmly.  "It  should  not  force  me  to  marry  a 
Bun  for  whom  I  could  not  feel  a  wife's  love.'' 

She  laughed  at  this.     "  You  are  candid  with  me,  I  see." 

"  I  have  never  been  otherwise,  Louise." 

"  I  own  it.  You  would  not  shrink  from  telling  me,  for  instance, 
If  pressed  to  declare  your  real  sentiments — that  there  never  waa 
a  more  incongruous  match  upon  earth,  one  in  which  Heaven  had 
toss  share,  than  this  most  '  proper '  alliance  of  Mr.  Wilson  and 
inyself ;  that  it  is  a  moral  impossibility  for  me  to  love  or  respect 
bim  ;  that  my  mother's  pride  of  wealth  urged  me  to  accept 
him  ;  that,  but  for  the  handsome  fortune  inherited  from  his 
father,  the  rich  grocer,  who  began  life  selling  fish  and  molasses 
In  a  small  retail  way,  and  ended  it  in  a  palace,  possessed  of  his 
million — but  for  this,  his  son  never  would  have  entered  our  par- 
lor, much  less  aspired  to  my  hand.  Answer  me,  like  the  straight- 
forward, fearless  girl  you  are — do  yon  not  envy  me  my  conjugal 
felicity  ?  You  have  had  a  tolerable  opportunity  for  studying  the 
character  of  my  lovable  spouse.  What  do  yon  say  of  him  ?" 

"  That  he  is  your  husband,  Louise  1"  I  retorted,  outraged  by 
her  total  want  of  delicacy. 

"  You  are  mistaken,  my  dear — you  are  speaking  now  after  the 
mauner  of  men — particularly  of  discreet  women.  I,  Louise,  say 
to  you,  Grace,  that  he  is  not,  that  he  never  was — that  he  never 
will  be  my  husband.  Love  him,  I  do  not,  honor  him  I  cannot, 
obey  him  I  will  not  !  My  bonds  do  not  trammel  me  much, 
ihall  be  a  faithful  wife  in  the  letter  of  the  law — in  the  spirit  ol 
ths  managing,  prudent  dames  I  mentioned  just  now.  Mr.  Wil- 
son asked  rnc  to  marry  him,  and  I  have  done  it.  He  ought  to 
tw  satisfied  with,  graceful  for  my  amiable  complaisance." 


MOSS-SIDE.  59 

"  Oh,  Louise  '  when  you  are  deceiving  him  continually  !  He 
loves  you  as  his  own  life,  and  believes  that  your  heart  is  his  !" 

"  The  error  is  his  —not  mine.  I  have  not  told  him  that  1 
regarded  him  with  any  especial  favor  ;  nor  do  I  apprehend  any 
inconvenient  disclosures  a?  to  this  section  of  the  compact  usual 
in  these  affairs.  We  are  a  fashionable  couple,  and  the  acme  01 
refinement  in  this  relation  is  a  polite  indifference.  I  flatter 
myself  that  in  study  and  practice  I  am  perfect  in  my  lesson." 

She  thanked  me  for  my  assistance  in  repairing  her  robe,  said 
it  was  done  with  neatness  and  dispatch,  and  "  would  not  detain 
me  longer  from  my  delightful  employment." 

I  was  relieved  by  her  departure,  for  my  heart  seemed  bursting. 
She  had  not  only  ceased  to  be  my  friend,  but  she  was  fast  learn- 
ing to  spurn  her  womanhood  ;  treading  down  all  tender  and  gen- 
tle feelings  belonging  to  her  sex  ;  putting  out  of  sight  every 
thing  that  could  itmind  her  of  what  she  once  was,  and  striving 
after  that  false  and  abominable  system  of  opinion  and  argument 
which  would  finally  enable  her  to  glory  in  her  shame.  I  was 
too  much  excited  to  weep.  I  could  not  go  on  with  my  letter; 
but,  with  my  forehead  resting  upon  the  desk,  let  the  flood  of 
•roubled  thought  have  its  way. 

A  sound  like  a  sigh  or  a  groan  caused  me  to  lift  my  head  and 
listen.  After  a  short  interval,  I  heard  it  again.  It  came  from 
the  portico.  Timidity  iu  my  loneliness  would  have  been  most 
natural ;  but,  without  a  thought  of  fear,  I  cautiously  undid  one 
of  the  blinds  and  peeped  out.  Lamps  were  hung  against  the  pil- 
lars of  the  piazza,  and  one  opposite  tc  me  displayed  the  figure 
of  a  man  crouched  in  a  chair,  leaning  over  the  balustrade.  He 
started  up  at  the  slight  noise  I  made  in  unclosing  the  shutter 
and  I  perceived  that  it  was  Mr.  Wilson . 

"  '  beg  jour  pardon  !"  he  said,  confusedly  ;  and  after  some 
inarticulate  murraurings,  he  appeared  about  to  leave  the  spot| 
but  his  limbs  failed  him,  and  he  sank  again  into  his  seat. 


60  MOSS-SIDE. 

'Are  you  ill  ?'  I  inquired  ;  "  cannot  I  do  something  for  you  T 
I  hardly  knew  what  I  was  saying,  such  was  the  turmoil  in  heart 
and  head.  Had  any  presence  of  mind  remained,  I  would  not 
have  spoken  the  next  sentence — "  Let  me  send  for  Louise  or  Mr 
Wynne  I" 

"  Louise  !     0,  Miss  Leigh  !  have  mercy  !" 

My  worst  suspicions  were  then  correct ;  yet  the  removal  of 
suspense  restored  me  to  some  degree  of  reason.  I  brought  him 
a  glass  of  water,  and  implored  him  to  go  into  his  room  and  lie 
down  until  he  felt  better. 

"  I  shall  never  feel  better  !"  he  said.  "  Oh  I  if  I  had  never 
been  born  !  Louise  !  Louise  I" 

It  was  a  heart-wail  of  love  and  sorrow.  Never,  in  all  my  life 
before  or  since,  have  I  heard  any  other  sound  so  inexpressibly 
mournful  as  the  repetition  of  that  name. 

"Miss  Leigh,"  he  said,  presently,  with  a  dignity  that  sur- 
prised me,  "I  have  heard  a  part  of  your  conversation,  but 
without  intending  it.  I  was  about  to  go  into  that  chamber,  ii 
search  of  her,  having  missed  her  from  the  ball-room.  I  hac 
my  hand  upon  the  window  to  open  it,  when  she  mentioned  mj 
name." 

He  stopped  and  battled  with  the  recollection  until  he  overcaim 
it  so  far  that  he  could  go  on.  "  May  I  trust  you  to  concea 
from  her  that  I  know  her  foelings  towards  me,  and  to  hide  them 
from  others  as  much  as  you  oan  ?" 

"  You  may,"  I  said.  "  Fear  nothing  from  me.  I  wculd  do 
anything  to  save  you  further  pain." 

"  You  are  very  kind  ;"  his  voice  faltering  again.  "  Pool 
Louise  !  She  can  never  be  happy  with  me.  It  is  my  fault  that 
he  is  what  she  is — yet  I  would  lay  down  my  life  for  her.  You 
told  her  so,  did  you  not  ?  Perhaps  that  would  be  the  best  way." 

"  Mr.  Wilson  ,"  I  exclaimed.  "  You  wrong  yourself  by  thil 
language.  Your  intentions  were — are  good." 


MOBS-SIDE.  61 

"  They  are  !  1  Lever  meant  to  make  her  miserable  Miss 
Leigh.  I  hoped  that  she  could  be  happy  with  me,  or,  believe 
me,  I  would  never  have  asked  her  to  marry  me.  Yet  this  hopfl 
was  blind  and  selfish.  I  should  have  seen  that  long  ago, 
.  t  is  too  late  now — yet  I  do  love  her  with  all  the  soul  I  have  1" 

A  step  resounded  through  the  piazza,  and  a  gentleman  came 
fapidly  ii  our  direction. 

"  Both  found,  and  together  1"  said  Herbert,  laying  his  hand 
upon  Mr.  Wilson's  arm.  "  I  arrest  you  upon  the  charge  of 
unlawful  monopoly  But,  what  is  the  matter?'7  he  asked, 
excited  by  our  awkward  silence  to  a  suspicion  that  all  was  not 
right. 

"  I  have  been  writing  a  letter,  and — and  happening  to  step 
out  here,  found  Mr.  Wilson,"  I  said,  blunderingly,  my  tell-tale 
features  contradicting  the  careless  statement  I  would  have 
given. 

He  was  not  deceived,  but,  in  compassion,  withdrew  his  search- 
ing gaze. 

"  Will  you  go  to  your  room,  or  return  to  the  parlor  1" 
inquired  he.  He  spoke  kindly,  but  the  most  authoritative  man- 
date would  have  left  me  equal  space  for  choice.  To  one  or  th« 
other,  I  must  depart — and  now.  This  was  what  he  intended, 
and  I  was  not  inclined  to  be  refractory. 

"  To  my  room,  if  you  please,"  I  answered,  catching  at  the 
thought  of  its  quiet  solitude. 

As  he  parted  from  me  at  the  chamber-door,  he  said,  "  If  you 
do  not  object  to  a  tfalk  before  you  retire,  I  will  call  for  you,  by 
and  by.  May  will  not  leave  off  dancing  for  two  hours  yet." 

I  acquiesced  in  this,  likewise,  for  in  his  mind  it  too  was  a 
fixed  purpose. 

By  the  time  I  was  tranquillized — aole  to  think  and  talk,  he 
knocked  for  me  to  come  forth.  He  was  very  grave  ;  and  my  pre- 
tcient  heart  began  to  tremble.  Nothing  was  said  that  verified 


62  MOSS-SIDE. 

its  foreboding  un.il  we  had  taken  several  turns  .n  the  pcrtico.  ] 
noticed  that  he  kept  close  to  the  outer  railip^,  and  BI  oke  softly, 
and  wondered  whether  this  did  not  prove  Us  knowledge  of  lh« 
unfortunate  accident  above  related. 

At  length  I  was  assured.  "  I  had  a  talk  with  Mr.  Wilso 
after  I  took  you  to  your  room,  and  gathered  from  him  what  h 
was  very  unwilling  I  should  learn — what  you  know  better  thai 
either  of  us.  Had  he  been  less  grieved,  or  I  less  positive, 
I  should  have  been  none  the  wiser  for  the  conversation.  There 
are  one  or  two  questions  I  wish  you  to  answer." 

"  Oh,  no  1  I  cannot  1"  I  cried  in  alarm.  "  Indeed  I  have  no 
light  to  say  anything  ;  I  have  pledged  my  word  to  be  silent. 

"  You  promised  Mr.  Wilson  to  keep  his  secret,  which  is  now 
mine  as  well.  I  shall  not  tempt  you  to  a  violation  of  your 
word.  I  wish  to  inquire  if  Louise  expressed  her  repugnance  to 
this  marriage  before  it  took  place." 

"  Once,  and  once  only — to  me,"  I  responded. 

"Is  it  your  belief,  then,  that  she  has  ever  done  so  to  any 
other  person  ?"  he  interrogated. 

"  I  think  it  very  doubtful.  My  impression  is  that  she  has  not 
— even  to  her  mother." 

"  Since  her  marriage,  has  she  been  in  the  habit  of  speaking  to 
you  in  the  strain  she  adopted  to-night  ?" 

"  She  has  not  opened  her  month  on  the  subject  before.  She 
is  too  proud  to  hint  these  things  to  any  one  but  myself.  We 
have  been  intimate  for  so  long  1" 

"  You  have.  I  wish  your  friendship  had  saved  her  from  thif 
fatal  step.  My  misguided  sister  I" 

I  could  feel  his  chest  heave  with  the  sigh  that  followed  tb 
words. 

"  Why  did  you  permit  her  to  take  the  step,  then  ?"  was  in 
my  heart  to  say.  Something  impeded  its  utterance. 

He  replied  as  if  1  had  spoken  : 


MOSS-SIDE.  63 

"  1  was  astonished  at  her  acceptance  of  Wilson's  addresses  • 
for  he  is  her  inferior  in  many  respects  ;  but  she  repulsed  my 
expostulations  so  ungraciously  ;  was  so  decided  in  her  declar 
ation  of  her  intention,  that  I,  ignorant  of  the  undercurrent 
operating  upon  her  will,  concluded,  absurdly  enough,  that  she 
was  willing  to  overlook  his  weaknesses  for  the  sake  of  his  noble 
traits.  You  do  him  flagrant  injustice  if-  you  despise  him.  His 
sterling  integrity  ;  his  industry  ;  his  freedom  from  every  appear- 
ance of  ostentation,  and  his  generous  heart  endear  him  to  those 
who  look  deeper  than  the  outside  show.  I  had  not  an  idea  that 
Louise  did  violence  to  her  inclination  when  she  wedded  him. 
True,  I  was,  at  the  outset  of  the  engagement,  unfriendly  to  the 
match,  for  much  as  I  esteemed  Wilson,  I  had  hoped  to  see  her 
maz'ry  a  mat.  of  more  sprightly  intellect  ;  whose  tastes  and  pur- 
suits were  more  in  consonance  with  hers,  but  I  had  no  right  to 
interfere — no  ground  for  opposing  her  will.  I  would  have  torn 
her  from  him  at  the  very  altar,  if  I  had  suspected  with  what 
motives  she  went  thither." 

I  felt  that  he  would  have  acted  thus  ;  and  it  was  no  longer  a 
mystery  why  Louise,  in  her  mad  resolve  of  self-immolation,  had 
misled  him  to  believe  her  a  voluntary  offering. 

"  It  is  hard  to  say  what  is  best  to  be  done,"  he  said.  "I 
*ould  have  informed  Louise  that  her  wicked  false-dealing — for- 
give me — but  that  is  just  the  phrase  I  designed  to  use,  and  you 
must  not  dissent — I  say,  my  earliest  impulse  was  to  tell  her  that 
her  wicked  false-dealing  had  been  discovered  by  the  man  she  has 
injured,  but  he  would  not  hear  of  this.  You  would  have 
respected  him,  if  you  could  have  listened  to  his  pleading  in  her 
behalf.  The  hope  that  she  would  ever  love  him  had  forsaken 
him,  he  said  ;  but  he  would  not  court  her  hatred,  nor  render 
her  lot  less  endurable.  Blaming  himself  for  his  folly  in  taking 
her  love  for  granted,  he  contended  that  his  punishment  was  juat. 
He  represented  that  she  had  never  deluded  him  by  language  of 


64  M08B-8IDK. 

act  of  fondness.  All  the  demonstration  had  betn  on  his  side^ 
she  being  only  a  passive  recipient  ;  conduct  he  had  hitherto 
ascribed  to  womanly  reserve,  and  for  which  he  had  honored  her 
the  more.  Not  a  single  reproach  mast  light  upon  her,  either 
from  her  family  or  the  world.  She  was  his  wife,  and  while  sh« 
bore  his  name,  he  would  protect  and  cherish  her.  He  commit 
;oned  me  to  thank  you  for  your  goodness." 
'  I  did  nothing,"  I  interposed. 

"  You  gave  him  sympathy,  and  I,  with  him,  bless  you  for  it 
He  wishes,  moreover,  that  everything  shall  go  on  in  seeming  as 
before  ;  that  you  meet  him  to-morrow,  and  always  in  future,  aa 
if  nothing  had  happened.  For  your  own  comfort,  Grace,  you 
had  better  forget  that  there  is  one  sorely-bruised  spirit  among 
us  to-night,  which,  this  morning,  was  perhaps  the  most  buoyant 
of  our  number." 

"  I  cannot  forget  his  sorrow  ;  I  must  feel  for  him,  although 
forbidden  even  to  look  my  compassion.  Nor  ought  you  to  judge 
Louise  too  severely  ;  she  is  not  deliberately  heartless." 

"  I  will  hear  no  excuses  of  her  course.  Do  not  you  attempt 
to  justify  it  I" 

He  said  this  so  sternly — it  was  so  unlike  himself — that  it 
brought  tears  to  my  eyes. 

"  I  did  not  mean  to  wound  you,"  he  continued.  "  My  mood 
is  not  so  charitable  as  you  may  think  that  it  should  be.  I  am 
chafed,  disappointed — angry  1  I  may  as  well  out  with  the  wh  )l« 
truth  at  once  I" 

"  Angry  with  me  ?"  said  I,  fearfully. 

"  Never  I" 

His  hand  touched  mine,  and  my  eyes  were  clear  again. 

We  walked  up  and  down  the  dim  colonnade. 

"  Hear  the  Falls,  Grace  !  What  do  they  say  to  you  ?" 

"  They  calm  me,"  I  said. 

"  As  they  do  me.     The  sound  is  not  dissimilar  to  the  roar  o' 


MOSS-blDE.  G5 

the  ocean,  but  its  effect  upon  me,  at  least,  is  entirely  different. 
There  is  no  restless  moaning  here  over  an  undying,  mysterious 
grief,  but  a  strong,  exultant  shout,  the  united  voice  of  many 
waters.  We  will  let  it  drown  the  strife  of  human  passions  for 
his  hour,  will  we  not  ?" 

We  could  not  be  cheerful  all  at  once,  nor  was  our  conveisfl 
gay  at  last,  yet  we  paced  the  porch  until  the  rising  moon  ap- 
prised us  of  the  lateness  of  the  hour. 

"  Are  you  still  sad  ?"  he  asked  at  my  door,  and  I  smiled  my 
reply. 

May  was  sleeping  soundly,  and  I  lay  down  beside  her.  I 
would  have  been  very  light-hearted  if  I  could  have  lost  tho 
recollection  of  one  event  of  the  evening.  I  thought  of  my  sum- 
mer, and  the  black  midnight  of  him,  the  innocent  sufferer  ;  of 
my  full,  joyous  heart,  and  hers — the  erring  woman's — an  empty 
grave-yard,  and  marvelled  vainly  why  these  things  were  so,  in  a 
world  that  could  afford  so  much  of  delight. 

Then,  as  a  breeze  brought  the  voice  of  the  cataract,  louder 
and  more  jubilant,  to  my  ear,  there  was  a  strange,  unspeakable 
comfort  in  recognizing  the  burden  of  the  anthem — in  whispering 
it  over  in  the  darkness — strange,  because  I  know  now  that  I  did 
not  appreciate  the  beauty  and  comprehensiveness  of  its  meaning 
The  sacred  words  alone  could  interpret  its  language,  and  they 
arose  unbidden  to  my  lips.  Yet  I  remember  that  there  was  a 
sense  of  security,  of  trust  in  an  overruling,  all-reconciling  Power, 
induced  by  the  Hallelujah  chorus,  pealing  through  the  solemn 
watches  of  the  night,  when  it  only  rendered  audible  praise  te 
the  Omnipotent. 


66  M  O  S  6-8  I  D  £. 


CHAPTER  V. 

MY  Virginia  home  had  no  pretensions  to  architectural  ele- 
gance, nor  was  it  imposing  in  size.  A  frame  farm-house,  a  story 
and  a  half  high,  with  peaked  dormer  windows  in  the  roof ;  its 
walls  owed  their  coat  to  the  whitewash  brush,  and  the  cascmenta 
had  no  blinds  except  running  roses,  virgin's  bower  and  jessa- 
mine. Mrs.  Wynne's  placid  orbs  would  have  widened,  and  her 
aristocratic  shoulders  executed  the  meaning  shrug,  learned  from 
the  most  stylish  French  modiste  of  the  day,  at  the  sight  of  the 
humble  abode  of  her  daughter's  intimate  companion  ;  but  this 
benign  lady  was  as  far  from  our  minds  as  we  were  from  her 
patrician  presence,  on  the  evening  of  our  arrival  at  Moss-side. 

If  there  were  little  porcelain,  and  less  silver  upon  our  tea- 
board,  loving  hearts  and  smiling  faces  surrounded  it,  and  the 
master  of  the  house  could  not  have  done  the  honors  of  the  feast 
with  more  graceful  hospitality  had  he  been  a  prince,  and  wo  his 
titled  guests  Frederic  was  his  youngest  son,  and  resembled  him 
most  in  personal  appearance  ;  but  the  fire  in  the  eye,  the  electric 
play  of  expression,  were  chastened  in  the  elder  by  age  or  care.  I 
had  often,  since  I  had  been  old  enough  to  read  physiognomies, 
seen  in  his,  melancholy  approximating  to  gloom  ;  but  his  ordi- 
nary aspect  was  one  of  winning  benevolence  and  a  milduese 
nothing  could  disturb.  My  aunt  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table 
She  was  the  sister  of  our  father,  and  my  memory  went  not  back 
to  ihi  date  of  her  entrance  into  our  household.  My  most  infan- 
tile recollection  was  of  a  tall,  pale  lady,  whose  black  eyes  rarely 
«hone  with  pleasure,  never  with  mirth  ;  who  spoke  almost  ai 


MOBS-SIDE.  61 

seldom,  unless  compelled  to  it  by  politeness,  which  was  with  her, 
like  every  other  observance  of  her  daily  life,  a  duty  ;  aud  who 
always  wore  a  mourning  dress,  severely  simple  as  were  her  man- 
ners. She  had  not  altered,  to  me,  since  the  hour  in  which  my 
dying  mother  committed  me,  a  child  "who  had  scarcely  seen  lief 
sixth  summer,  into  her  charge.  "  I  give  my  youngest  darling  lo 
you,  Agnes," — so  the  legacy  was  worded.  After  that  I  slept  in 
her  room,  not  in  her  bosom,  but  in  a  crib  or  cot  beside  her  bed. 
If  I  awoke  in  fright  or  sickness,  she  required  no  other  call  than 
my  uneasy  tossing  ;  she  had  taught  me,  patiently  and  well,  until 
I  went  from  home  to  school ;  I  had  never  had  an  unkind  admo- 
nition or  corporeal  correction  from  her  ;  she  was  exemplary  in 
every  capacity  ;  yet  I  did  not  love  her  with  the  ardor  with  which 
my  soul  went  out  to  my  father.  To  him  I  was  wont  to  carry  my 
childish  secrets  of  joy  or  grief,  for  fondling  and  tenderness  were 
necessaries  of  my  nature,  and  I  understood  intuitively,  before  I 
could  well  speak  his  name,  where  these  were  to  be  found.  Not 
that  my  aunt  was  repulsive.  Her  features  were  fine  ;  her  bear- 
ing bespoke  the  lady  in  birth  and  breeding  ;  but  there  was  an 
indescribable  chilliness  experienced  upon  a  near  approach  to  her, 
that  never  failed  to  deter  the  boldest  from  further  and  familial 
advances.  She  was  taciturn  now  in  the  midst  of  our  rejoicings, 
while  Frederic's  burlesques,  and  my  gossipping  stories,  did  not 
allow  the  smile  to  die  away  upon  my  father's  face  during  the 
repast,  and  frequently  moved  him  to  hearty  laughter. 

The  only  satire  upon  an  individual  acquaintance  was  pro- 
nounced by  Frederic  upon  Mr.  Dumont.  The  instinctive  dislike 
bad  been  mutual,  and  I  was  obliged  to  qualify  the  impetuou 
youth's  strictures  by  some  tempering  praise  of  the  conversational 
talents  and  scholarship  of  the  personage  so  roughly  handled. 

"  Yes,  his  pedantry  was  unequalled,  except  by  his  puppyism, 
and  both  were  set  off  to  the  best  advantage  by  his  imperti 
nence,"  returned  Frederic,  contemptuously. 


6S  MOBS-SIDE. 

"  Bat,"  said  I,  "  we  must  not  measure  him,  a  foreigner,  bj 
our  standard  of  etiquette,  which  is,  no  doubt,  as-  strange  to  (lira 
as  his  philosophy  is  to  us." 

"  I  don't  believe  a  syllable  of  his  French  origin,"  was  the  reply 
**  He  was  too  much  at  home  in  our  vernacular,  which,  but  for  hit 
finical  aspirations,  broad  as  and  rolling  r-r-rs  might  be  his  too, 
I'll  wager  my  head  that  wherever  he  may  have  learned  these, 
he  was  born  and  raised  on  this  other  side  of  the  Atlantic,  and 
that  the  colors  he  sails  under,  are  as  false  as  his  Macassared 
hair." 

My  father  bestowed  upon  him  a  glance  of  mingled  amusement 
and  warning,  and  prudently  changed  the  channel  of  the  convex 
sation. 

"  You  did  not  meet  our  neighbor,  Townley,  in  your  travels,  I 
suppose  ?" 

"  No,  sir.     How  far  did  he  go,  and  when  ?" 

"  Not  further  northward  than  New  York  city,  I  think.  He 
was  absent  but  a  fortnight.  Had  he  made  the  tour  of  Europe, 
and  consumed  a  year  in  the  work,  his  budget  could  not  have 
been  richer  and  more  varied.  Do  not  plume  yourselves  upon  the 
pitiful  scraps  you  have  collected.  You  will  be  humble  enough 
to  learn  of  him  when  he  begins  to  uncover  his  stock  of  informa- 
tion. 

"  How  are  the  sisters  three  ?"  I  inquired. 

"  Very  well,  and  brisk  as  ever.  Miss  Judy  was  over  yester- 
day to  ask  my  advice  about  purchasing  a  pair  of  Berkshire  pigs 
Mr  Jones  has  for  sale,  and  to  ascertain  if  I  were  averse  to  join- 
ing  fences  with  her  in  separating  our  wood-lots.  She  alleges  that 
the  negroes  do  not  pay  neighborly  respect  to  our  boundary  lines 
that  mine  cut  down  trees  on  her  side,  and  hers  are  not  slow  W 
return  the  favor.  She  is  a  singular,  but  an  upright  woman." 

"  And  Manufactures  and  my  favorite   1  ine-Arts are   thej 

Bourishing  ?"  asked  Frederic. 


MOSS-SIDE  6& 

"  They  are  not  dull,  I  fancy  ;  although  I  have  heard  nothing 
new  in  the  line  of  either,  if  I  except  a  '  gem  of  a  picture,'  which 
Mr.  Townley  brought  home  for  Miss  Malvina.  She  introduced 
me  to  it  the  other  day,  when  I  was  there.  The  subject  is  not 
itriking  in  elegance  or  originality — a  peasant  girl,  washing  her 
feet  in  a  brook  ;  but  Mr.  Townley  informed  me  that  his  sister  con 
•idered  it  a  pick-to^rial  treasure." 

"  Atrocious  1"  exclaimed  Frederic  ;  "  more  nauseating  than  the 
general  run  of  what,  by  an  odd  flight  of  fancy,  he  calls  puns. 
He  would  attempt  these  horrors  at  his  last  gasp,  I  believe." 

"  So  some  one  once  told  him,"  said  my  father — upon  which  he 
rejoined — "  and  you,  I  presume,  would  deem  that  a  di-e.r  mis- 
deed." 

Before  noon,  the  ensuing  day,  as  I  was  standing  upon  the 
back  porch,  exchanging  some  last  words  with  Frederic,  who  was 
equipped  for  hunting,  we  heard  the  rattle  of  wheels  that  stopped 
at  our  gate. 

"  Who  is  it,  Joe  ?"  questioned  Frederic  of  a  negro  boy,  who 
had  run  around  to  the  front  of  the  house  to  reconnoitre. 
"  Mr.  Townley's  carriage,  sir." 

"  All  three  ladies,  Joe  ?"  questioned  my  brother,  dropping  his 
voice,  and  withdrawing  to  the  corner  of  the  porch  best  screened 
•from  observation. 

"  Yes,  sir — all  on  'em  1"  showing  his  teeth  in  lively  glee. 
"  I  will  be  back  to  supper,  sis,"  was  the  sportsman's  farewell, 
as  he  vaulted  over  the  railing,  and  under  cover  of  a  cedar  hedge 
that  ran  across  the  yard,  made  good  his  retreat  to  the  woods. 

I  was  vexed  with  him  for  leaving  me  to  encounter,  single- 
tongued,  the  force  before  which  he  had  fled  ;  yet  I  was  glad,  for 
his  sake,  that  the  long,  tedious  hours  of  conversation,  and  the 
almost  as  heavy  season  of  dinner  was  spared  to  one  of  us.  Thia 
act  behind  the  scenes  passed  so  quickly  that  I  was  enabled,  after 
•ecing  Frederic  leap  the  fence  into  a  corn-field — to  meet  the  visi- 


70  M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  K  . 

tora  at  the  door.  I  ushered  them  into  the  parlor  ;  went  inU 
minute  inquiries  as  to  the  health  of  each,  and  in  the  proper  time, 
invited  them  to  remove  their  bonnets. 

Miss  Judy  had  already  loosened  the  strings  of  hers,  never  tieU 
too  tightly. 

"  I  should  like  to  speak  to  my  driver,"  she  said,  stepping 
towards  the  door. 

I  would  ha  ye  offered  to  send  for  him,  but  she  was  too  brihk 
for  me.  I  heard  her  loud  tones,  ordering  that  the  horses  should 
be  unhitched  and  taken  home  again,  for  the  purpose  of  complet- 
ing a  certain  job  of  farm  work. 

"Bring  them  back  by  sunset — do  you  hear?"  she  finished  the 
command. 

Meanwhile,  Miss  Susan  removed,  with  much  care,  a  Leghorn 
hat,  trimmed  by  herself  with  green  ribbon  and  yellow  flowers  ; 
and  Miss  Malvina  waited  for  a  second  petition  before  laying 
aside  her  more  stylish  head-piece  of  pink  silk  and  French  lace. 

"  I  do  not  know  that  it  is  advisable,  Sister  Susan,"  she  said 
deferentially.  "  We  came  over  to  make  a  morning  call." 

"  I  am  goihg  to  stay  all  day  1"  put  in  Miss  Judy,  ree'ntering 
"  I  want  to  have  a  nice  neighborly  talk  with  Mr.  Leigh,  and  look 
at  Miss  Agnes'  garden.  They  tell  me  it  beats  mine  out-and- 
out,"  shaking  hands  with  ray  father  and  aunt  aa  they  came 
in. 

She  was  a  tall,  gaunt  woman  of  forty-five  ;  hard,  yet  not  ill- 
favored,  the  honest  frankness  of  her  sunburnt  features  redeeming 
them  from  homeliness.  Her  dress  was  scrupulously  neat,  but 
of  a  make  and  fit  that  defies  description.  She  abhorred  "  fur- 
belows," and  a  redundance  of  drapery  would  have  been  a  sore 
inconvenience  in  her  walks  over  the  plantation  ;  so  her  apparel 
was  destitute  of  ornament,  and  except  in  the  waist  and  arm-holes, 
where  she  "  liked  to  have  a  plenty  of  room,"  was  cut  out  of  the 
mallest  possible  quantity  of  material,  the  skirt  barely  reaching 


MOSS-SIDE  71 

oer  ankles.  She  wore  thick-soled  Morocco  shoes,  and  no  glovea 
or  cap  ;  her  hair  being  arranged  with  the  same  view  as  was  her 
attire,  "  to  get  it  out  of  the  way."  Yet,  Miss  Judy,  eccentric 
and  ungainly  though  she  was,  masculine  in  manner  and  pursuits, 
was  my  favoiite  of  the  triad. 

Miss  Susan  was  thirty  ;  an  inch  shorter  than  h\  r  elder  sister, 
ale,  with  high  cheek-bones,  and  an  aquiline  nose,  a  sour  expre* 
ion  about  the  mouth,  compressed  to  a  mere  line  in  the  lower 
part  of  her  face,  except  when  it  curled  to  speak  ;  and  a  cold, 
Tirago  stare  in  the  eye.  She  never  moved  without  her  work  : 
and  now  drew  from  her  hand-basket  several  squares  of  a  bed- 
quilt.  I  took  up  one  by  way  of  beginning  a  conversation 
The  ground-work  was  white,  upon  which  was  sewed  a  bouquet, 
consisting  of  a  blue  tulip,  a  purple  rose,  and  an  orange  pink, 
cut  from  glazed,  highly-colored  furniture  chintz,  and  all  mounted 
upon  stalks  that  might  have  supported  mammoth  cabbages. 

"  After  the  flowers  are  transferred,  each  piece  is  to  be  wadded 
and  liucd,  and  then  quilted  in  imitation  of  a. Marseilles  coun- 
terpane," explained  the  needlewoman.  "  Afterwards,  the  squares 
are  to  be  stitched  together." 

"  How  tedious  1"  I  remarked.  "  You  are  courageous  to 
undertake  the  task." 

"It  might  be  tedious  to  some  people,"  pointedly-  --"  I  was 
brought  up  not  to  mind  work." 

"  Sister  Susan  is  the  most  wonderful  woman  I  kr/ow,v  said 
Miss  Malvina;  "  the  most  industrious  and  ingenious  person  I  ever 
saw.  She  shames  me,  but  I  have  no  taste—not  the  slightest, 
for  these  occupations.  You  should  see  a  rug  Sister  Susan  has 
•ust  finished.  It  is  really  superb,  very  handsome,  indeed  1  The 
colors  are  so  artistically  assorted  !" 

"We  must  not  expect  Grace  to  look  at  home  manufacture* 
now,1'  and  the  vinegar  settled  still  more  sharply  ab./ut  Mis? 
Susan's  thin  lips.  "  How  plain  and  mean  everything  urnst  b« 


7ii  MOSS-SIDE. 

to  you,  after  all  the  fiuery  you  have  been  used  to  lately  !     1 
qnite  pity  you." 

"You  needn't,"  Miss  Judy  answered  for  me.     '  Grace  has  toe 
Bioch  good  sense  to  have  her  head  easily  turned." 

"Thank  you,  Miss  Judy,"  said  my  father.     "I  believe  you 
C-L'.J  do  her  justice." 

This  almost  made  a  child  of  me.  The  blood  rushed  to  my 
faoe  and  the  water  to  my  eyes.  I  tried  to  smile  and  turn  the 
matter  off  with  a  jesting  speech,  which  was  very  imperfectly 
spoken.  Miss  Susan  had  a  remarkable  faculty  of  saying  un- 
pleasant things  ;  an  intuitive  perception  of  one's  tender  point, 
Hiid  I  felt  that  she  had  struck  her  hard  hand  directly  upon  one  of 
•uiue,  perhaps  the  sorest  I  then  had.  I  was  not  ashamed  of  my 
home  ;  for  all  that  pertained  to  the  unpretending  establishment 
seemed  to  share  in  the  self-respect  of  its  inmates  ;  and  there  was 
such  perfect  harmony,  such  genuine  good  taste  and  neatness 
throughout  the  whole,  that  even  Mrs.  Wynne  would  have  found 
nothing  to  offend  her  sense  of  propriety  and  general  fitness, 
while  she  would  have  sneered  at  the  extreme  simplicity  of  coun- 
try life.  But  this  morning,  I  was  "  ennuye'ed  " — a  word  caught 
from  Louise.  The  excitement  of  the  past  month,  the  scenes  and 
society  in  which  it  had  been  spent,  had  induced  a  sort  of  fretful 
reaction,  which  I  was  ready  enough  to  ascribe  to  boredom  by 
the  present  company.  I  was  shocked  by  Miss  Judy's  stentorian 
tones  and  inelegant  attire  ;  Miss  Susan  was  the  most  uninter- 
esting of  cross  old  maids,  and  Miss  Malvina's  mincing  and  lan- 
guishing were  odious,  unbearable  affectation.  This  inopportune 
visit,  while  I  was  still  suffering  from  the  fatigue  of  travelling 
and  my  exchequer  of  rare  and  curious  news  for  the  loved  one 
at  home  almost  untouched,  was  of  a  piece  with  their  usual  dis 
ragard  of  others'  feelings  and  convenience.  Yet,  there  sat  my 
aunt,  knitting  a  worsted  stocking,  and  listening  with  grave 
politeness  to  Miss  Judy' 3  vegetable  catalogue  :  how  one  beet 


M  O  8  8     3  I  D  E  .  Hi 

had  measured  three  feet  in  circumference,  and  a  single  tomato 
weighed  a  pound  ;  of  how  many  bushels  of  butter  beans  and 
black-eyed  peas  she  expected  to  gather  for  winter  varied  by 
receipts  for  pickles,  sauces,  and  catsups,  and  infallible  remedies 
for  the  gapes  in  young  poultry,  and  all  ills  that  fowls  of-  a  larger 
growth  are  heir  to. 

My  father,  with  the  grace  of  a  Chesterfield,  lent  an  attentive 
^ar  to  Miss  Malvina's  platitudes  and  sentimentalisms.  I  needed 
«jnly  an  affectionate  smile  from  him  to  rally  my  spirits,  and  I 
^commenced  the  dialogue  with  the  tart  spinster.  She  cross- 
examined  me  as  to  the  newest  patterns  for  French  embroidery, 
jetting,  tetting,  tapestry,  and  especially  bed-quilts.  It  is  an 
anexplained  fact,  that  the  industry  of  amateur  seamstresses 
almost  invariably  turns  in  the  direction  of  these  nondescript 
abominations.  Miss  Susan  had,  in  her  own  private  storeroom, 
a  pile  of  not  less  than  twenty-five  of  such  useful  articles — from 
the  irregularly-joined  patch-work  that  testified,  by  its  gaping 
stitches  and  puckered  corners,  to  the  infantine  fingers  that  drove 
the  needle  into  the  motley  spread,  up  through  every  variety  of 
circle,  hexagon,  star,  and  block  work,  to  the  "rising  sun,"  her 
glory,  until  it  was  eclipsed  by  this  latest  burlesque  upon  nature's 
handiwork  ;  its  improbable  flowers,  impossible  birds,  and  im- 
practicable baskets  of  floral  and  fruity  treasures.  The  truth  was, 
that  I  had  not  seen  a  single  quilt  during  my  absence,  and  after 
several  dexterous  evasions  to  avoid  the  rudeness  of  hinting  that 
her  hobbies  were  not  quite  a  la  mode,  I  achieved  a  master-stroke, 
by  assuring  her  that  hers  were  superior  in  pattern  and  work- 
manship to  any  foreign  ones  that  I  had  examined.  The  vinegar 
was  sensibly  diluted,  and  she  proceeded,  more  graciously  than 
Vfts  her  habit  in  speaking  to  one  whom  she  regarded  as  a  "  chit 
of  a  girl,"  to  expatiate  upon  her  branch  of  domestic  economy. 

It  was  a  sultry  September  day.  The  crickets  sang  in  the 
crisp  grass,  and  the  locusts  piped  their  drought  prophecy  from 

4 


74  MOSS-BIDE 

among  the  dying  leaves  of  the  poplars.  The  parlor  was  a  large 
square  room,  with  four  windows  draped  with  white  dimity 
fringed  and  starched,  looped  up  in  stiff  curves  by  blue  ribbons. 
The  clean  floor  had  no  covering  except  a  rug  laid  before  the 
hearth,  where  stood  a  jar  of  asparagus  boughs.  There  were 
two  ponderous  sofas,  supported  by  spindle  legs  and  overgrowu 
claw-feet,  upon  opposite  sides  of  the  apartment ;  a  dozen  ehaira 
of  similar  style  and  age,  in  prim  file  against  the  chair-board  ;  a 
round  candle-stand,  its  top  turned  up  perpendicularly,  set  well 
back  into  one  corner;  a  book-case  with  sliding  doors  in  another 
and  in  the  exact  centre  of  the  floor — exact,  according  to  m) 
aunt's  eye,  more  just  than  any  foot  and  inch  rule — a  circulai 
table  spread  its  ample  circumference  over  three  claws,  as  dis- 
proportionate to  the  stem  they  upbore  as  were  those  of  the 
sofas.  The  piano  was  as  much  out  of  place  as  a  city  belle,  in 
flounces  and  crinoline,  would  be  at  a  tea-party  of  country 
Quaker  cousins.  My  father  had  surprised  me  with  it  on  my 
return  home  from  school.  It  was  shut  to-day,  and  the  music 
tucked  away  out  of  sight  in  the  drawer  of  the  book-case  appro- 
priated to  it.  Frederic  and  I  had  sung  and  played  duets  for 
an  hour  immediately  after  breakfast,  and  left  loose  sheets  lying 
about ;  but  my  aunt  had  visited  the  room  since.  As  I  have 
said,  there  was  no  disorder,  no  tawdriness  to  offend  the  most 
fastidious  eye  ;  but  there  was,  on  the  other  hand,  as  little  to 
divert;  an  absence  of  suggestive  objects  to  stimulate  or  maintain 
conversation. 

I  had  found  in  my  work-box  an  interminable  strip  of  cambric, 
which  I  hemmed  to  keep  my  fingers  in  motion,  and  my  eyes 
teady      Miss  Susan  talked  and  talked — her  accents  unmusical 
nd  monotonous  as  the  locust's  cry.     I  heard  both  with  like  ap- 
prehension of  their  meaning. 

"  And  this  is  your  life  1"  said  Discontent      "  These  are  your 
associate  !     Stirring — is  it  not  ?     And  are  they  entirely  cong» 


MOSS-SIDE.  75 

Dial  ?  There  is  wide  scope  for  the  play  of  Imagination  ;  fine 
opportunity  for  the  exercise  of  conversational  powers  !  Your 
glimpse  of  the  world  has  only  begotten  in  you  a  longing  for  a 
different  sphere.  Feast  as  you  will,  upon  your  garnered  memo- 
»ies  of  that  bright  view,  they  will  not  cheat  the  Present  of  ita 
wedium.  Herbert  and  May  could  give  wings  to  even  these 
weary,  hot  hours,  you  plead  :  but  that  is  not  at  all  apropos  tc 
the  subject  now  under  Teview.  You  are  required  to  accept  the 
spinster  sisterhood  of  three,  this  fascinating  triangle,  to  be 
squared  presently  by  their  witling  of  a  brother,  as  substitutes 
for  your  late  companions.  What  do  you  say  ?" 

"  That  I  will  not  do  it  !"  I  answered  obstinately. 

"  Are  you  dreaming  about  your  sweetheart  ?"  asked  Miss  Su- 
san, coarsely. 

Miss  Malvina  tittered.  "  Just  what  I  was  going  to  inquire 
You  do  look  so  interesting  and  lack-a-daisical,  Grace  1  Come, 
make  a  confession.  We  are  all  friends,  you  know." 

Again  I  reddened,  and  more  fierily  than  before  ;  but  the  half- 
formed  retort  was  fortunately  prevented  by  a  cheery  voice  in  the 
hall,  and  the  appearance  of  the  runaway  Nimrod.  He  brought, 
moreover,  a  most  acceptable  visitor,  although  there  was  nothing 
at  the  first  glance  that  would  have  interested  a  stranger  in  the 
very  quiet-looking  personage  whose  greeting  lighted  up  even  Miss 
Susan's  crab-apple  visage. 

He  was  our  nearest,  and  certainly  our  best  neighbor.  A  wid- 
o\ver  at  thirty,  he  had  now  lived  ten  years  alone  in  the  house 
which  had  been  the  scene  of  his  wedded  happiness.  Uusoured 
by  sorrow  or  his  solitary  existence,  he  was,  without  question,  the 
most  popular  man  in  the  county,  that  rara  avis  of  humankind — 
one  of  whom  no  one  knew  or  spoke  any  evil.  He  was  grooms- 
man at  every  wedding,  uncle  to  all  the  children,  cousin  to  all  the 
girls,  confidant  in  every  love-scrape,  and  arbiter  in  every  quar 
re'  Mr  Tovvnley,  a  lawyer  of  sharp  and  not  over-scrupulous 


T6  MOSS-BIDE. 

practice,  pretended  to  cherish  a  grudge  against  him  for  having 
spoiled  more  law-suits  than  he  had  ever  gained.  The  thermo- 
meter of  my  blood  fell,  and  that  of  my  spirits  mounted,  as  I  held 
out  my  hand  : 

"  Mr.  Peyton  1  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you  !" 

"  And  I  to  see  you  back,  Grace  1" 

Volumes  of  protestations  could  not  have  conveyed  more  to  my 
heart. 

My  pleasure  did  not,  however,  blind  me  to  Miss  Malvina's  flat- 
tering reception  of  my  fun-loving  brother.  He  was  at  the  age 
when  the  prospect  of  a  flirtation  with  a  willing  damsel  is  irre- 
sistible to  a  Southern  youth.  Miss  Malvina  was  four  years  his 
senior,  but  as  she  was  condescendingly  anxious  to  overlook  this 
trifling  disparity,  he  was  too  gallant  to  remember  it.  The  whole 
family  courted  him  most  sedulously,  and  he  allowed  them  the  pri- 
vilege. Mr.  Peyton  and  I  fell  into  a  friendly  chat,  marked  by 
something  of  paternal  interest  on  his  part,  and  much  communi- 
cativeness on  mine.  Mr.  Townley's  comings  were  never  a  cause 
of  special  gratiGcation  to  me,  and  I  had  seldom  been  less  happy  to 
see  him  than  when  he  bowed  himself  in,  half  an  hour  before  dinner. 

He  was  a  small  man,  with  a  very  white  face  and  sandy  hair, 
parted  down  the  middle,  a  mode  of  coiffure  which  imparts  an  air 
of  effeminacy  or  affected  saintliness  to  the  most  manly  set  of  fea- 
tures. His  politeness  was  extreme.  Few  of  his  acquaintances 
had  ever  known  his  suavity  to  be  disturbed  ;  in  the  social  circle, 
his  smiling  ease  was  imperturbable.  He  entered  now,  sliding  his 
feet  over  the  floor,  with  the  air  of  a  true  carpet-knight,  in  the 
direction  of  my  aunt,  whose  stateliness  he  reverenced  by  a  bo 
of  deep  respectfulness  ;  then  I  had  a  benefit : 

"  Accept  my  i  congratulations  upon  your  return  in  safety,  and, 
AS  I  am  rejoiced  o  behold,  in  health." 

"  Thank  you.  I  am  well,  and  have  had  a  very  pleasant  jou* 
ney  and  visit." 


MOSS-SIDE.  77 

•*  You  will  not,  then,  be  grieved  to  receive  a  jwrf-visit  reminder 
of  your  Northern  friends  ?"  approaching  his  hand  to  his  pocket. 

I  had  the  presence  of  mind  to  smile  at  the  pun  (?)  before  1 
inquired, 

"  Have  you,  then,  a  letter  for  me  ?" 

"  Give  me  credit  for  for  a  spice  of  Yankee  cunning  in  ensuring 
a  welcome  ;"  and  he  proceeded  to  distribute  his  dispatches. 
"  I  took  the  liberty  of  bringing  your  papers  from  the  oflice,  as  I 
Tr&s  coming  directly  hither,"  he  apologized  to  my  father. 

There  was  a  letter  for  Frederic,  and  another  for  me.  We 
glanced,  each  at  the  superscription  of  that  which  the  other  held, 
and  both  looked  foolish  as  our  eyes  met. 

Mr.  Townley  chuckled  a  little,  low  laugh,  his  most  boisterous 
exhibition  of  amusement. 

"  Really,  Fred,  one  would  imagine  that  I  had  given  you  the 
wrong  epistle.  I  strongly  suspect  what,  in  one  sense,  my  eyea 
assure  me  is  true,  that  the  more  feminine — I  may  say  the  very 
feminine  packet — was  intended,  under  color  of  your  sister,  for 
you." 

Frederic  laughed  gaily.  It  required  no  effort  in  his  then  state 
of  mind.  Mr.  Townley  was  complacent  that  his  brilliant  effort 
h&d  not  escaped  notice,  and  we  chose  this  moment  to  withdraw. 
We  read  our  precious  missives  in  "  father's  room,"  the  usual 
gathering-place  of  the  family.  As  I  finished  mine,  I  saw  that 
Frederic  was  watching  me  in  some  impatience. 

"  Will  you  exchange  ?"  he  said. 

I  complied  silently. 

He  took  the  perfumed  satin  sheet  caressingly. 

"  There  is  a  breath  of  her  presence  about  it,"  and  he  raised  it 
X)  his  lips. 

There  was  no  mockery  in  this,  and  neither  of  us  smiled  at  thi 
action,  extravagant  as  it  might  have  appeared  to  a  third  party 
[  had  never  seen  Herbert  Wynne's  handwriting  until  I  read  this, 


76  M088-SIDK. 

his  letter  to  my  brother.  It  was  as  characteristic  in  its  way  ai 
was  May's.  But  it  was  no  scented  Bath  post  for  which  I  had 
bartered  her  dainty  note.  The  paper  was  large,  clear  white,  and 
a  firm,  manly  hand  had  guided  the  pen.  I  could  hear  him  speak 
each  sentence  as  I  read  it,  and  I  dwelt  upon  its  perusal  to 
enjoy  this  fancy.  There  was  a  message  to  me  in  the  conclusion, 
»  mere  phrase  of  friendly  remembrance,  but  I  turned  back  tc 
look  at  it  again,  lest  I  had  not  perhaps  quite  understood  it. 

The  dinner-bell  interrupted  me.  In  our  haste,  Frederic  re- 
tained my  letter,  thrusting  it  into  his  bosom  ;  and  I  did  not  stay 
to  return  him  his.  He  was  back  in  the  parter  in  time  to  offer 
his  arm  to  Miss  Malvina,  whose  pink  cheeks  took  a  more  vivid 
hue  as  she  accepted  it.  I  could  have  quarrelled  with  this  best- 
beloved  brother  for  his  show  of  devotion  to  a  girl  for  whom  he 
felt  neither  respect  nor  affection,  while  his  heart  was  yet  warm 
with  thoughts  of,  and  words  from  its  ruling  angel.  I  marvelled 
if  he  did  not  contrast  the  round,  fat  face  she  vainly  attempted  to 
coax  into  intellectuality;  the  half-sigh,  half-smirk  which  responded 
to  his  attentions  ;  the  Dutch  figure  that  waddled,  when  it  would 
have  tripped  along,  with  the  lovely  fay,  whose  mirth  and  gravity 
were  alike  unaffected  ;  whose  heart  and  soul  spoke  in  eye  and 
expression  ere  the  tongue  could  syllable  their  meaning.  I  grew 
wiser  in  after  days  ;  understood  why  Love  should  never  think  of 
comparing  refined  gold  with  pewter  metal ;  the  sun  with  a 
farthing  taper.  I  doubt  if  it  occurred  to  Frederic  that  May 
belonged  to  the  same  sex  as  the  buxom  creature  by  whom  he 
ostentatiously  manoeuvred  to  obtain  a  seat  at  table — a  feat,  that, 
to  Miss  Malvina's  notion,  warranted  the  application  of  her  hand 
kerchief  to  her  mouth.  I  expected  a  renewal  of  Mr.  Townley' 
raillery  ;  but  while  we  were  out  of  the  parlor,  another  subject  01 
interest  had  been  started  by  a  paragraph  in  one  of  the  papers  he 
had  brought.  Affairs  of  honor  at  that  day  were  less  susceptible 
of  amicable  adjustment  than  in  the  age  of  accommodation  wo  novr 


MOSS-SIDE  79 

enjoy.  Shots  were  occasionally  exchanged,  and  blood  drawn 
even  by  M.C.s  ;  and  of  such  an  encounter  the  mail  brought  us 
tidings.  The  result  had  not  proved  fatal  to  either  party ;  there- 
fore, in  the  discussion  that  sprang  up,  opinions  were  not  sup- 
pressed by  respect  for  death  or  bereavement. 

The  subject,  in  itself,  was  neither  agreeable  nor  interesting  to 
me  ;  so  for  a  while  I  did  not  mark  what  was  going  on,  except 
that  Mr  Peyton  and  Mr.  Townley  were  upon  opposite  sides — 
the  one  as  severe  as  his  nature  permitted  him  to  become,  ir 
denunciation  of  the  code  of  honor,  stigmatizing  it  as  "  sanguinary 
and  heathenish  ;"  while  the  lawyer,  in  conciliatory  tones,  de- 
fended or  palliated  it. 

"  How  can  you  talk  so,  James  ?"  I,  at  last,  heard  Miss  Judy 
speak  up  in  her  independent  way.  "  I  am  like  you,  Mr.  Peyton. 
I  hold  that  a  duellist  is  as  much  a  murderer  as  a  midnight 


"  More  1"  said  Miss  Susan,  shortly,  opening  and  shutting  her 
mouth  as  with  a  spring. 

Miss  Malvina  always  seconded  her  senior  sisters  ;  "  Sister 
Susan  "  in  particular.  Sentimental  though  she  was,  her  forte  ir 
conversation,  if  she  had  one,  was  in  echoing  the  sentiments  of 
others.  For  herself,  she  had  none,  except  upon  "  Fine  Arts  " — 
courtship  included.  She  sighed  a  slight  scream  here,  and  said  that 
"  they  were  indeed  dreadful  creatures — so  cold-blooded,  so  heart- 
less— so — why,  in  short,  such  wicked,  horrid  wretches  !  Now, 
there  is  something  romantic  in  a  Corsair,  or  a  Giaour,  or  a  Bandit." 

"  There  is  a  difference,"  responded  Frederic.  "  Your  Pirate 
follows  his  trade  of  blood  from  deliberate  choice,  and  its  object 
is  plunder,  rather  than  vengeance  or  glory.  He  unites  the 
characters  of  thief  and  murderer.  The  duellist  flies  to  the  field 
in  the  heat  of  anger — often  of  righteous  indignation  at  wrongs 
done  to  the  defenceless  objects  of  his  best  affections.  Ta 
avenge  them,  to  cleanse  his  own  fame  from  blots  more  hatefu 


80  MUSS-AIDE. 

than  death,  he  meets  his  foe  like  a  brave  man,  and  grants  him  • 
fair  chance  for  life." 

"  The  same  chance  which  the  beast  of  prey  grants  his  antag- 
onist— precisely  the  same,  Fred,"  replied  Mr.  Peyton.  "  If  the 
Creator  had  intended  that  brute  force  should  decide  on  whict 
side  lies  moral  right,  we  would  have  been  supplied  with  fangl 
and  claws  instead  of  brains  and  consciences." 

"So  I — so  all  of  us  would  argue,  seated  peacefully  in  our 
homes  ;  good  friends  with  the  world  and  ourselves.  I  do  not 
hold  my  honor  dearer  than  you  do  .yours,  Mr.  Peyton,  and  I 
know  that  to-morrow — to-day — were  your  character  assailed,  if 
calumny  menaced  the  downfall  of  your  reputation,  and  with  it,  all 
your  hopes  of  earthly  happiness,  you  could  not  rest  upon  your 
bed  until  you  had  tracked  the  serpent  to  his  den,  and  destroyed 
him." 

"  Maybe  so,  Fred — maybe  so  !  My  temper  might  get  the 
upper  hand  of  me  and  drive  me  to  forget  that  I  was  a  man  and 
a  Christian  ;  and  so  might  it  be  with  you  in  a  similar  tempta- 
tion ;  but  two  wrongs  would  not  make  a  right.  The  laws  of 
God  and  man  should  be  respected." 

"  I  should  transgress  none  of  the  Divine  commands  in  pre- 
serving my  life,  if  I  were  attacked  ;  why  then  have  I  not  equal 
liberty  to  save  that  which  is  better  than  mere  animal  exist- 
ence ?"  returned  Frederic.  "  As  to  human  law,  the  pretended 
guardian  of  society,  since  it  cannot  protect  my  best  treasure, 
am  I  bound  to  remain  without  a  safe-guard  when  I  can  establish 
one  for  myself  ?" 

Mr.  Townley's  voice  fell  upon  the  ear  in  an  oily  flow  as  th« 
excited  youth  ceased. 

"  Let  me  suppose  a  case,  gentlemen.  You  have  a  sister, 
Mr.  Peyton — lovely  and  beloved,  the  idol  of  your  heart  and 
home.  Gentle,  pure,  helpless,  she  appeals  to  every  feeling  ^f 
nature  and  manliness  She  is  insulted,  defamed— -it  may  be  U 


MOSS-SIDE.  81 

trashed  ic  earth  by  the  perfidy  or  abuse  of  him  whose  duty  it  is 
to  cherish  and  protect  her — what  course  shall  the  brother  tuko  T' 

Volcanic  fire  was  in  Frederic's  glance — lava  in  his  impetuous 
outbreak — "  I  would  have  his  heart's  blood  for  hers — and  so 
**ould  you,  Mr.  Peyton  !  I  would  not  sit  at  this  table — would  not 
einain  under  the  same  roof  with  you,  if  I  did  not  believe  this  I" 

"  My  son  !" 

The  unfamiliar  accents  drew  the  attention  of  all  to  the  foot  of 
the  board.  My  father  supported  his  head  upon  his  hand  ;  hia 
gaze  still  lingered  rebukingly  upon  the  hot-spirited  boy,  but  hia 
countenance  was  so  agitated,  so  pale^  that  a  terrible  idea  of  » 
death-stroke  of  illness  flashed  into  my  mind. 

Frederic  passed  to  his  side  with  the  speed  of  this  thought. 
"  You  are  not  well,  sir  !" 

"  Yes — yes  P'  subduing  the  pain,  whatever  it  was.  "  That 
is — I  am  better.  I  had  a  spasm,  I  think.  I  know  it  of  old,  but 
it  is  passing.  It  seldom  lasts  long.  Forgive  me  for  alarming 
you  all.  I  assure  you  that  your  anxiety  is  needless." 

His  natural  manner  was  returning.  He  even  smiled  along  the 
double  row  of  frightened  faces  ;  his  eye  resting  longest  upon  my 
aunt,  whose  self-possession  was  more  shaken  than  I  had  ever 
seen  it  before.  She  had  arisen  at  Frederic's  exclamation,  but 
the  power  to  stand  was  wanting,  and  only  the  wild,  earnest  eye 
and  pallid  cheek  told  the  fullness  of  sisterly  sympathy.  The 
look  her  brother  bestowed  upon  her  was  angelic  in  its  beautiful 
tenderness.  What  evil  chance  made  me  pass  from  its  contem- 
plation to  the  smooth  face  of  Mr.  Townley,  who  sat  at  his  right 
hand?  He  had  light-grey  eyes — not  remarkable  in  color  oi 
expression.  I  had  hitherto  thought  them  rather  vacant  and 
shallow.  Was  it  my  excited  fancy  which  eliminated  the  blue  light 
ning  that  played  through  them  now  ?  It  was  but  a  single  flash- 
keen,  forked,  triumphant — then,  quicker  than  the  passing  of  elee 
trie  fire  from  the  clouds,  the  orbs  were  quiet  and  depthless  agaiu 
4* 


82  MOSS-SIDE 

with  their  ordinary  greenish  tinge,  as  if  a  blind  had  been  shot 
across  then\  just  below  the  surface. 

"  I  think  this  seizure  is  nothing  serious,  sir,"  he  said  ;  and 
butter  and  honey  were  a  harsh  mixture  compared  with  his  modu 
lations.  "A  slight  megrim,  probably— and  a  grim  one  it  looked 
tn  us,  for  a  few  seconds." 

With  real  tact,  he  succeeded  in  raising  a  laugh  by  some 
further  jocose  observation,  and  the  incident,  startling  for  the 
moment,  seemed  to  be  forgotten  by  the  time  the  meal  was  over. 
I  wore  a  careless  outside  show  also,  for  there  was  no  appa- 
rent cause  for  solicitude.  The  object  about  which  it  gathered, 
by  his  manner,  put  to  flight  any  suspicion  of  its  need.  He  waa 
the  cheerful,  urbane  host  all  the  afternoon  ;  attended  his  fair 
guests  to  their  carriage,  and  detained  them  a  moment  after  the 
door  was  closed,  to  invite  a  renewal  of  the  visitation,  which  he 
did  not  call  by  this  name,  and  promise  Miss  Judy  some  choice 
seed-wheat  which  Frederic  had  procured  in  his  travels.  My 
brother  and  myself  stood  with  him  at  the  gate.  We  watched 
the  carriage  roll  away,  and  Frederic  kissed  his  hand  to  the  fare- 
well wave  of  Miss  Malvina's  handkerchief. 

"Ah,  Fred  !  yon  are  a  sad  flirt,  my  boy  !  Take  care  you 
do  not  go  so  far  as  to  produce  mischief,"  said  his  father,  but 
smiling  fondly  into  his  roguish  face. 

"  Trust  me,  sir  ;  I  will  guarantee  the  safety  of  both  hearts. 
The  danger  to  her  is  no  greater  than  to  me — and  I  could 
not  say  more  for  the  perfect  security  of  either  of  us." 

We  did  not  go  directly  into  the  house  ;  but  strolled  through 
the  yard  into  the  great,  old-fashioned  garden,  where  venerable 
trees  grew  yearly  more  decrepid  under  the  unmerciful  weigh* 
of  fruit,  laid  upon  their  aged  limbs  ;  where  were  giant  lilac 
and  "  snow-balls,"  and  conical  mountains  of  box-wood  ;  and  tan- 
gled thickets  of  rose-bushes,  their  stems  hoary  with  time  ;  and 
long  borders  of  lavender,  sage,  thyme  and  sweet  Basil  ;  more 


MOSS-SIDE.  83 

fragrant  in  the  twilight  than  would  be  the  much-prized  exotica 
of  modern  conservatories,  whose  perfumes  chill  in  their  cups 
»«  the  sun  goes  down. 

We  paced  up  and  down  the  main  walk,  my  father's  arm  clasp- 
ng  my  waist,  and  his  other  hand  laid  upon  Frederic's  shoulder. 
Our  recent  visitors  were  not  mentioned.  We  were  too 
happy  to  be  able  to  talk  of  matters  of  mot 3  interest.  Conver 
sation  with  the  good  who  have  passed  the  meridian  of  life,  is 
to  me  like  the  enjoyment  of  rare  old  wine — and  a  fair  crown  ia 
the  aliflond-blossom  for  such  a  draught.  The  joy  is  rare,  I  say — 
at  le?3t  it  has  been  so  to  me.  Experience  only  too  soon 
enlightened  me  as  to  the  fallacy  of  a  doctrine  inculcated  in  my 
childhood  as  carefully  as  was  religious  truth  ;  viz  : — that  increase 
of  years  ever  brings  wisdom  in  their  train  ;  tempers  passion, 
an-J  perfects  virtue.  If  years  had  not  wrought  this  effect  upon 
my  father,  affliction  and  heavenly  grace  had  accomplished  the 
work.  He  had  never  lectured  us,  and  since  we  had  arrived 
at  man's  and  woman's  estate,  a  word  or  a  glance  sufficed  to  hold 
us  in  check,  while  we  never  dreaded  to  avv-w  an  opinion  or  con- 
fess a  fault  to  him.  So,  we  had  not  walkeu  very  long  when  I 
was  made  aware  that  my  heart  was  not  the  only  one  from  which 
the  alarm  at  dinner-time  was  not  wholly  effaced.  Frederic's 
repeated  surveys  of  the  mild  countenance,  so  serene  in  the  rosy 
light,  emboldened  him  to  ask  a  plain  question. 

"  Father,  was  I  too  hasty  in  argument  with  our  excellent 
friend,  Mr.  Peyton,  to-day  ?" 

"  It  was  hardly  an  argument,  my  son,"  was  the  pleasantly 
spoken  rejoinder. 

"  Our  dispute  then,  sir.  I  allow  that  to  be  the  better  word 
I  imagined  that  you  were  on  the  point  of  reproving  my  hea*, 
when  you  were  taken  ill." 

My  father's  face  was  a  shade  m:re  grave.  bn1-.  jis  answer  WAI 
orompt  and  calm. 


84:  MOSS-SIDE. 

"  My  censare,  if  it  had  been  spoken,  would  have  borne  upoi 
the  matter,  more  than  the  manner  of  your  speech,  Fred." 

Frederic  bit  his  lip.  "I  am  sorry,  sir,  that  I  have  bcci 
o  imprudent  as  to  incur  your  displeasure  " — 

"  Not  '  displeasure,'  my  boy  ;  say  that  I  disapproved  of  your 
remarks  upon  one  subject — remarks,  too,  which  were  actuated 
by  impulse  more  than  deliberate  thought  and  conviction." 

"  I  regret,  then,  that  I  have  failed  to  meet  your  wishes  upon 
every  point.  I  spoke  too  warmly,  I  own.  My  reason  tells  me 
that  mine  was  the  anti-Christian — anti-humau,  if  you  choose  to 
style  it — side  of  the  question,  and  yet,"  his  mouth  and  chin 
becoming  stern,  "  I  am  sure  that,  if  put  to  the  test,  I  would  act 
out  what  I  then  declared  would  be  my  part ;  I  could  take  no 
other  conscientiously." 

My  father's  arm  tightened  upon  my  form. 

"  May  the  trial  never  come,  my  son  I" 

We  were  at  the  lower  end  of  the  walk,  where  stood  a  summer- 
house,  roofed  with  creepers,  looking  towards  the  west.  My 
father  sat  down  in  the  rustic  chair  at  the  entrance.  Our  prome- 
nade had  wearied  him,  for  his  breath  was  short ;  and  as  I  passed 
my  fingers  over  his  forehead,  I  brushed  off  thick  beads  of  perspi- 
ration. 

"  I  trust  I  should  meet  it  like  a  man,  sir,  not  as  a  coward," 
Frederic  said  decidedly,  yet  with  respect. 

"  If  one  of  the  alternatives  must  be  met,  there  is  certainly  need 
of  more  hardihood  to  enable  one  to  live  for  years  with  the  brand 
of  blood-guiltiness  upon  his  soul,  than  to  encounter  speedy  death 
from  the  hand  of  another,"  answered  his  father,  composedly. 
'  The  breath  of  slander  can  never  stain  so  darkly,  corrode  so 
deeply,  as  the  blood  of  your  fellow-man.  No  more  of  this  now, 
my  boy.  Shake  hands,  Fred  1  We  are  too  good  friends  to 
quarrel  about  what  is,  thank  Heaven  1  an  abstract  principle." 

We  sat  at  his  feet,  and  the  very  balm  of  peace  descended  upon 


MOSS-SIDE  85 

oar  spirits  as  he  talked  with  and  to  us.  I  sighed  no  more  for 
gayer  scenes,  for  a  wider  orbit  of  sight  and  action,  for  I  felt 
how  truly  great  one  could  be  in  simple  goodness,  how  the  most 
obscure  sphere  could  be  dignified  by  such  as  he  ;  -and  in  the 
flush  and  fragrance  of  that  autumnal  sunset  were  born  ether 
and  purer  aspirations,  views  and  hopes  more  humble,  yet  mori 
xalting  than  the  vague  longings  of  the  noon. 


MOSS-SIDE. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

OCTOBER  fruits,  vermilion  and  gold,  strewed  the  orchard  grass  j 
nor  had  liberal  autumn  been  chary  with  these  precious  dyea  in 
field  and  forest.  The  woods  were  one  vast  kaleidoscope  of  daily 
increasing  gorgeousness.  In  our  nplpnd  rambles,  our  feet  were 
entangled  in  crimson  vine-wreaths,  aad  rustled  to  breaking,  the 
brittle  broom-straw,  scaring  up  from  its  roots  bevies  of  par- 
tridges, fond  loiterers  about  the  nests  that  now  yawned  bare  and 
empty  ;  the  streams,  shrunken  by  the  drought,  were  traceable  by 
bright  borders  of  the  golden  rod,  glittering  chains  upon  the  sere 
bosom  of  the  meadow. 

And  in  such  a  season,  upon  a  faultless  day,  when  clouds  and 
rain  were  to  be  found  nowhere,  save  in  our  hearts  and  eyes, 
Frederic  went  away.  In  the  vicinity  of  his  Alma  Mater  resided 
an  eminent  physician,  who  was  in  the  habit  of  directing  the 
medical  studies  of  a  small  class  of  young  men,  residents  in  his 
uwn  family,  and,  alternately,  the  companions  of  his  professional 
excursions.  Under  his  care,  my  brother  designed  placing  hirn- 
Belf  for  a  few  months,  prior  to  his  entrance  upon  a  regular  course 
of  lectures  in  a  northern  college.  Session  after  session  he  had 
left  us  for  the  same  journey,  and  the  same  time,  but  I  could  not 
look  upon  this  in  the  light  of  his  former  absences.  It  was  a 
decisive  step  ;  the  seal  of  his  choice  of  a  profession  that  would 
oblige  him  to  seek  another  home,  for  he  would  never  be  content 
to  bury  his  talents  in  an  interior  country  neighborhood,  too  wel] 
rtocked  now  with  professors  of  the  healing  art. 

A  visit  flora  Mr.  Townley  the  evening  before  the  departara 


MOSS-SIDE.  87 

afforded  some  diversion  to  iny  sad  thoughts.  He  was  profuse  in 
his  sympathies  and  good  wishes  ;  predicted  early  consolation  t<J 
me,  and  a  most  successful  career  to  Frederic,  and  with  the  por- 
tentous gravity  that  always  warned  us  to  watch  narrowly,  lest 
we  should  miss  the  point  of  a  pan,  stated  as  "  a  singular  fact 
that  the  ills  of  patients  are  in  a  conspiracy  to  make  physician 


At  parting,  he  brought  in  a  box  from  his  gig. 

"  A  farewell  token  from  the  girls,"  he  said  ;  "  whether  yon 
fart,  well  in  getting  it  is  another  thing,  Frederic." 

"  I  have  no  misgivings,"  laughed  the  recipient,  and  the  sleek 
man  of  law  took  a  final  leave. 

In  the  box  were  a  doztn  juicy  pippins,  and  a  fruit-cake  from 
Miss  Judy  ;  a  worsted  comforter,  wrought  by  Miss  Susan  ;  and 
a  portfolio  of  card-board,  bound  and  lined  with  cherry  silk.  One 
side  bore  a  water-color  drawing  of  an  anchor  suspended  to  a 
wreath  of  forget-me-nots,  beneath  which  was  written  in  mim- 
meny-pimmeny  characters,  the  name  of  the  flower.  The  reverse 
was  more  elaborate  in  design  and  execution,  and  was,  I  sus- 
pected, purely  original.  In  the  centre  of  the  board  a  yellow 
serpent  made  frantic,  but  useless,  attempts  to  swallow  himself, 
his  spine  being  too  stiff  to  suffer  him  to  do  more  than  seize  the 
extreme  tip  of  his  tail  with  his  teeth.  This  interesting  reptile 
wao  supported  on  the  right  by  an  inverted  cornucopia,  in  favor 
of  whose  contents  the  laws  of  gravitation  were  suspended,  and 
upon  the  left  by  a  scrub-oak,  almost  hidden  in  ivy  branches  ; 
above,  two  doves  flew  in  opposite  directions,  tying  a  true-lover's 
knot  in  an  azure  ribbon  ;  and  at  the  bottom  of  the  whole  array 
was  penned  with  a  crow-quill  and  India-ink,  "  Amor  vincit  omuia." 

I  seem  now  to  see  Frederic  throw  back  his  handsome  head  and 
laugh  until  tears,  real  tears,  clear  and  large,  coursea  over  hit 
cheeks,  as  a  dim  sense  of  the  meaning  of  the  worse  than  Egypt 
ian  hieroglyphics  dawned  upon  him,  and  the  look  of  perplexed 


88  M06B-61DE. 

amusement  in  my  father's  face  while  he  siadied  this  fresh 
triumph  of  "Fine  Art."  I  managed  to  stow  away  all  of  the 
gifts  in  trunk  and  portmanteau,  Miss  Malvina's  chef-d'oeuvre 
scenting  a  pile  of  handkerchiefs  in  the  tray  of  the  former.  A 
note  of  thanks  to  the  three  was  left  in  my  charge. 

Our  beloved  one  was  gone  ;  and  for  days,  the  desolation  an^ 
tillness  of  the  grave  reigned  in  our  home.  Gradually  a  seem- 
ing of  cheerfulness  came  back,  invoked,  I  shame  to  say,  more  by 
my  father  than  by  me.  He  appeared  to  think  only  of  my  sor> 
row,  as  if  the  strongest  prop  of  his  advancing  age  were  not 
removed.  He  encouraged  me  to  walk,  to  ride,  to  visit,  and  used 
every  means  to  tempt  company  to  the  house.  I  could  not  be 
ungrateful  for  such  kindness,  and  throwing  off  despondency,  I. 
endeavored  to  look  courageously  at  the  comparatively  Jonely  win- 
ter in  prospect,  and  prepare  for  it  as  best  I  could.  My  life  waa 
uneventful,  yet  I  learned  a  certain  negative  satisfaction  in  it. 
Like  most  ofher  young  ladies  who  are  raised  above  the  absolute 
necessity  of  labor,  I  never  dreamed  of  any  duties  obligatory  upon 
me  beyond  a  little  needle-work  ;  a  little  housekeeping,  orna 
mental  and  gratuitous  ;  a  little  music,  and  making  myself  agree- 
able at  home  and  abroad.  I  read  without  system  or  fixed  pur- 
pose ;  sewed  when  I  felt  like  it ;  practised  an  hour  a  day  or 
less  ;  ate,  slept,  received  and  returned  visits. 

My  happiest  hours  were  those  of  reverie,  a  practice  that  waa 
strengthening  into  inveteracy.  My  aunt  and  myself  sat  together 
at  work  much  of  the  morning,  and  when  my  father  was  not  pre- 
sent, our  conversation  was  limited  to  a  few  queries  and  replies, 
uttered  at  long  intervals.  My  seat  was  near  a  window,  com- 
manding an  extensive  stretch  of  rolling  fields,  bounded  afar  off^ 
by  the  variegated  forest.  Bare  as  were  these  hills  at  this  season, 
my  eye  acquired  the  power  of  distinguishing  numerous  differen 
shades  of  coloring  ;  aud  when  the  clouds  left  their  sides  in  pun 
pie  shade,  while  the  sun  slept  in  golden  rest  upon  the  summits 


MOBS-BIDE  S9 

or  the  light  and  darkness  chased  each  other  ovei  ridge  and  glen, 
I  watched  the  scene  with  a  delight  I  had  never  felt  in  the  sur- 
vey of  a  summer  landscape.  I  have  often  sat  for  hours,  my 
hands  laid  idly  in  my  lap,  gazing  into  the  mellow  sunlight,  or  into 
the  dim  atmosphere  of  a  cloudy  day,  revelling,  as  I  deluded  my 
self  by  saying,  in  the  beauties  of  Nature  ;  in  truth,  wandering 
ihrough  the  Elf-laud  of  my  own  imaginings.  We  come  in  time, 
to  smile  at  the  Chinese  paintings  upon  the  walls  of  our  now  dis- 
used, out-of-date  dream-chambers — pictures  unrelieved  by  shad- 
ing, witLout  perspective,  and  tinted  with  the  most  gaudy  colors 
of  Fancy's  palette  ;  but  when  did  real  joys,  actual  and  present 
delights,  ever  thrill  the  soul  as  did  those  early  visions.  I  never 
asked  myself — "  will  the  awakening  come  at  last  ?"  never  reflect- 
ed upon  the  consequences  most  likely,  to  ensue  from  this  dro- 
ning musing.  It  was  a  pleasure  that  did  not  pall ;  my  chief 
solace,  and  I  gave  the  reins  up  to  Imagination. 

Now  and  then,  I  was  aroused  as  by  a  jostle,  to  some  sense  of 
the  sterner,  harder  life  which  others  led.  Mr.  Peyton  has  been 
introduced  as  our  nearest  neighbor.  A  mile  from  us,  in  another 
direction,  was  the  cottage  of  the  widow  Bell,  a  highly  respecta- 
ble matron,  whose  fortunes  had  not  always  been  so  lowly  as  now. 
Extravagance,  dissipation,  sickness — strong  fiends,  armed — had 
visited  her  home  since  her  marriage  with  one  who  was  remem- 
bered by  many  of  the  older  inhabitants  as  a  promising  young 
man,  kind-hearted,  and  possessed  of  fine  talents,  but  "  inclined 
to  be  wild."  He  died  when  Annie,  the  only  surviving  child,  was 
ft  mere  infant ;  and  the  widow  invested  the  remnant  of  the  once 
noble  property  in  the  purchase  of  the  small  brown  house  under 
the  hill,  to  which  was  attached  a  farm  of  proportionate  size. 
Two  negroes,  a  man  past  his  prime,  and  his  wife,  remained  to 
her,  and  their  labor,  with  her  own,  had  supported  the  family, 
kept  up  the  place,  and  educated  Annie  as  thoroughly,  if  not  as 
showily  as  any  other  girl  in  the  surrounding  country.  Mosf 


90  MOSS-SIDE. 

people  oxp3<-ted  that  she  would  make  the  mo.st  of  thisadvanta^€ 
by  applying  for  a  situation  as  governess  or  teacher  of  a  private 
school  :  but  the  independent,  affectionate  daughter  preferred 
pursuing  the  profession  of  a  seamstress  with  her  mother.  She 
received  the  encouragement  her  honest  pride  merited.  Mr.  Fey 
ton  was  their  staunch  friend,  their  benefactor  in  everyway  in 
which  they  would  permit  him  to  confer  a  favor.  He  was  my 
frequent  and  most  brotherly  escort,  and  three-fourths  of  our  rides 
and  strolls  were  in  the  direction  of  Mrs.  Bell's. 

One  mild  afternoon  in  the  Indian  Summer,  we  set  out  to  make 
a  call,  partly  of  friendship,  partly  because  I  had  business  with 
Annie.  A  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  house  we  met  old  Zack, 
Mrs.  Bell's  factotum,  trudging  on  sturdily,  in  no  wise  embarrassed 
by  the  weight  of  a  large  wooden  bucket  on  his  head,  and  a  bas- 
ket on  his  arm.  He  pulled  his  forelock  and  scraped  his  foot  in 
salutation,  and  Mr.  Peyton  reined  up  his  horse  to  parley  witl» 
him. 

"  What  now,  Zack  ?    Eggs,  I  hope." 

"  Yes,  Mars'  Robert,  and  houey,  sir." 

He  lowered  his  bucket  and  vouchsafed  us  a  peep,  under  the 
clean  cloth,  of  piled-up  comb,  almost  as  white,  which  dripped 
with  amber  nectar. 

"  Aunt  Agnes  would  like  some  of  that,  I  know,"  I  said.  "  Go 
directly  to  our  house  with  it,  Uncle  Zack." 

"  What  she  does  not  take,  1  will,"  added  Mr  Peyton.  "  How 
many  eggs  ?" 

"  Four  dozen,  sir,"  opening  the  basket.  "  Dere's  some  Guineas, 
too." 

Mrs  Bell's  hens  laid  the  fairest,  plumpest  eggs  that  ever  fille* 
the  measure  of  a  housewife's  desire  ;  and  the  brownish-yellow  of 
the  smaller  and  richer  "  Guineas,"  as  Zack  called  them,  made 
the  rest  look  like  so  many  balls  of  snow. 

"  All  right  1"  was  Mr.  Peyton's  comment.     "  Take  them  to 


MOSS-SIDE.  91 

old  Nancy,  and  tell  her  I  sent  you.     Arc  you  getting  on  prettj 
wll,  now-a-days,  Zack  ?" 

"  Farly — Mars'  Robert — farly  1  Mis'  and  Miss  Annie's  mightj 
well,  and  my  ole  woman  don't  complain  much  of  her  rheumatic--. 
A.H  to  me  and  Sultan  " — touching  a  tawny  and  black  Newfound 
la  id  beside  him — "  we's  as  peart  as  young  folks — aint  we,  Sul- 
tan ?  I  se  'mazing  thankful  for  all  dis,  Mars'  Robert  1" 

"  So  am  I,  Zack.  Good  bye.  A  faithful  old  fellow,"  he  sau. 
to  me,  as  we  rode  on.  "  He  is  Mrs.  Bell's  mainstay.  She  had 
ie*ter  part  with  her  right  hand  than  with  him." 

"  She  is  a  wonderful  woman,"  I  remarked,  "  and  most  surprfc 
lug  in  her  cheerfulness  under  misfortune." 

"  Misfortune  is  often  the  best  teacher  of  cheerfulness,"  replied 
he.  "  She  has  learned  it  in  a  hard  school,  Grace  1  I  cannot 
but  think  thr,t  the  rest  of  her  stay  in  this  world  will  be  tran- 
quil." 

Very  tranquil  was  the  aspect  of  the  cottage  as  we  now  saw  it 
nestled  in  the  shelter  of  the  hill  ;  the  trees,  that  made  it  cool  in 
hot  weather,  letting  in  the  sun  freely  upon  the  roof  and  porch. 
The  pleasing  confusion  of  a  poultry-yard  and  the  hum  of  bees 
came  successively  to  our  ears  on  our  way  to  the  door  ;  and 
Annie's  flower-garden  was  gay  with  chrysanthemums.  She 
answered  our  knock.  I  had  time  to  perceive  a  troubled  look 
foreign  to  her  face,  before  she  saw  who  we  were.  Then  she 
emiled  most  cordially,  and  stood  by  to  let  us  enter. 

Mrs.  Bell  had  other  company.  A  very  glossy  hat,  which 
would  have  served  as  its  master's  card  to  any  one  who  was 
familiar  with  his  appearance,  stood  on  the  good  lady's  work 
table,  and  a  dapper  riding-whip  was  set  within  it.  Mr.  Towuk-y 
was,  as  usual,  overjoyed  to  see  us,  and  farther  evidenced  hi3 
pleasure  by  monopolizing  our  conversation.  Mrs.  Bell's  deport- 
ment had  in  it  nothing  of  the  disquietude  it  cost  Annie  a  COD 
stant  struggle  to  hide.  She  stitched  the  fine  linen  bosom  of  a 


1>2  MJS8-SIDK. 

shirt,  while  we  were  there  ;  never  pausing  to  rest  her  fingers  ci 
wipe  her  spectacles.  Annie  sat  a  little  behind  her,  her  i£edl« 
almost  invisible  in  its  swift  course,  one  minute,  to  slide  from  hei 
hold  the  next.  The  work  required  much  fixing,  for  she  often 
Btooped  low  over  it,  and  twice  took  it  to  a  stand,  where  she 
remained  for  some  moments  with  her  bick  to  us.  The  last  time 
he  did  this,  I  followed  her. 

"  Annie  !"  I  whispered,  hastily. 

She  started  and  turned  her  head  away,  while  her  hand  went 
up  to  her  face,  I  saw,  to  dash  away  a  tear. 

"  Let  me  go  up  to  your  room,"  I  continued,  "  I  want  to  speak 
with  you  in  private." 

Mr.  Townley  arose,  as  we  passed  him,  and  bowing  to  my  ear, 
murmured,  "  Linger  not  long  1" 

"  Annie,"  said  I,  when  a  flight  of  stairs  and  two  doors  separ 
ated  us  from  him,  "  before  I  talk  about  anything  else,  tell  me 
what  ails  you.  Are  you  in  trouble  ?"  , 

The  poor  girl  burst  into  tears,  and  flung  herself  upon  my  neck. 
I  crowded  inquiries  upon  conjectures,  and  hap-hazard  consola- 
tions upon  all,  until  she  could  articulate,  for  I  was  not  prepared 
for  this  extreme  distress.  At  last  she  sat  down  by  me  on  the 
bed,  her  head  against  mine,  and  still  sobbing,  like  a  grief-weary 
child,  gave  me  the  substance  of  the  sad  story. 

Mr.  Townley,  who  had  a  magpie  zeal  in  exploring  dark  pigeon- 
holes, and  law  records,  whose  must  and  mould  would  have  sick- 
ened most  stomachs,  had  discovered  in  the  settlement  of  an  old 
estate,  involved  in  a  Chancery  suit,  a  bond  of  the  deceased  Mr. 
Bell's  for  the  sum  of  three  hundred  dollars,  given  fifteen  year* 
previous  to  the  owner  of  said  estate.  It  had  never  been  can- 
celled, very  probably  had  never  been  paid,  and  of  course  the 
heirs  of  the  original  creditor  had  a  right  to  look  to  the  widow 
tor  the  money. 

"  The  debt  must  be  discharged  at  once,"  sobbed  Annie.   "  Mr 


MOSS-SIDE.  93 

Townley  sajs  his  orders  are  imperative  to  levy  an  execution 
upon  the  property.  Is  it  not  hard  that  we  must  give  op 
our  home  to  satisfy  a  demand  we  were  ignorant  of  until  to- 
day ?'; 

"  Must  it  come  to  that  ?"  I  asked.  "  After  waiting  so  long,  I 
ihould  think  they  could  afford  to  make  some  accommodate  n 
with  you — let  you  pay  as  you  can  raise  the  means." 

"  Mr.  Townley  recommended  another  way,"  her  voice  trem 
bling  yet  more.  "  He  advises  that  we  keep  the  house,  and 
sell" 

She  broke  down  in  a  rain  of  tears. 

The  blood  boiled  in  my  veins.  "  The  inhuman  wretch  I"  I 
ejaculated,  as  the  picture  of  Uncle  Zack  and  his  wife — sundered 
in  their  old  age,  toiling  in  the  service  of  another  than  the  mis- 
tress they  had  followed  with  such  heroic  constancy  from  her  very 
babyhood  ;  with  whom  they  had  grown  grey  ;  for  whom  they 
would  have  shed  their  blood  as  they  had  spent  their  fresher 
energies — arose  to  my  sight.  "  The  inhuman,  unnatural  mon- 
ster P 

"It  is  his  duty,  I  suppose,"  answered  Annie.  " He  professes 
to  perform  it  with  reluctance,  and  we  have  no  right  to  doubt  his 
word.  But  this  will  not  help  the  matter,  Grace.  Forgive  me 
for  grieving  you  so  selfishly.  I  must  bear  up  for  mamma's  sake. 
She  is  the  greater  sufferer,  but  she  has  more  fortitude  than  I. 
You  said  you  had  something  to  say  to  me.  It  is  about  work,  I 
hope,  for  I  must  keep  busy,  and  forget  this  trouble  as  far  as  I 
tan." 

«  While  I  delivered  a  message  from  my  aunt  touching  some  sew- 
ing she  wished  to  have  done,  Annie  bathed  her  eyes  and  face  in 
cold  water,  and  opened  the  window  that  the  air  might  help  to 
banish  the  redness  that  would  betray  her  recent  agitation.  I 
tried  U  cheer  her  up  by  indefinite  allusions  to  the  numerous 
friends  of  herself  and  mother,  who  would  not  see  them  oppressed 


SJ4  M  O  S  8  -  8  1  D  E  . 

She  interrupted  me  with  a  sudden  blush  a  Ad  an  involuntarl 
tone  of  haughtiness. 

"  From  none  of  these — from  no  man  or  woman  living  would 
we  accept  charity  !  We  must  meet  the  storm." 

After  a  pause,  she  added,  "  I  thank  yon,  Grace,  and  love  you 
Your  sympathy  has  done  me  good." 

"  You  will  not  refuse,  then,  to  let  me  help  you  whenever  I 
can,  Annie  ?  I  have  no  pecuniary  aid  to  offer." 

But  I  was  inwardly  resolving  to  lay  the  matter  before  my  fa- 
ther so  soon  as  I  reached  home.  I  would  have  broken  forth  wit^ 
it  by  the  time  we  were  out  of  hearing  of  the  cottage,  but  Mr. 
Townley  rode  with  us  most  of  the  way.  I  was  as  discourteous 
as  a  lady  could  have  shown  herself  to  be  under  the  circum- 
stances ;  conduct  that  had  no  effect  whatever  upon  his  civil 
small-talk.  I  rejoiced  when  we  arrived  at  the  cross-road  leadinp 
to  his  house,  and  shook  in  impatience  as  he  delayed  a  reply  to 
Mr.  Peyton's  ill-timed  and  very  unnecessary  politeness  in  inviting 
him  to  accompany  him  home.  I  was  relieved,  at  length,  by  his 
resolve  to  part  from  us,  and  while  the  subdued  clatter  of  his 
horse's  hoofs  still  mingled  with  ours,  I  began  the  narration. 

Mr.  Peyton  was  not  demonstrative.  My  cheeks  glowed  witb 
excitement,  and  to  the  incidents  of  the  discovery  and  presenta- 
tion of  the  bond,  I  subjoined  a  description  of  Annie's  emotion, 
dwelling  upon  her  proud  scorn  of  dependence — and  stopping 
in  sheer  breathlessness,  after  a  vituperative  commentary  upon 
the  suave  barrister.  My  companion  listened,  his  eyes  bent  upou 
the  neck  of  his  steed,  with  no  exclamation,  no  change  of  com- 
plexion or  expression.  . 

"  You  are  harsh  upon  Towuley,"  he  said  sententiously. 

"  He  deserves  it  all — and  more  1"  I  returned. 

"  Perhaps  so,  Grace — perhaps  so  !  but  we  ought  not  to  jndg« 
Mm.  We  have  no  warrant  for  doing  so — no  warrant." 

He  had  au  absent  way  of  speaking  when  his  mind  was  iuteul 


M  O  S  8      S  I  I)  E  .  95 

opor.  any  important  subject ;  a  state  betrayed  by  a  short,  dry 
tone  and  tautological  sentences.  He  rambled  on,  his  gaze  fixed 
as  before 

"  Townley  is  a  lawyer,  you  know,  and  must  do  his  duty  to  hia 

ilients  ;  that's  certain — certain  !     He  must  do  his  duty  to  then 

.--no  help  for  it,  Grace.     I  hare  nothing  to  say  against  him — 

othing  at  all.     He  is  a  kind  neighbor — kind  and  hospitable  ; 

very  polite  man — the  most  polite  man  I  ever  saw — and  I  have 
seen  many  a  French  dancing-master.  He  seems  good-hearted. 
too  ;  is  fond  of  his  sisters,  and  they  dote  on  him.  I  cannot  be- 
lieve that  he  would  have  chosen  a  job  like  this,  but " —  and  here 
he  looked  at  me,  and  brought  down  his  whip  upon  his  knee  with 
an  energy  under  which  the  flesh  must  have  tingled  to  the  bone 
— "  I'll  be  shot  if  I  would  have  soiled  my  fingers  in  such  an 
affair  for  anybody,  alive  or  dead  !" 

The  fury  evaporated  in  the  lash  of  whip  and  tongue.  He  did 
not  reply  to  my  next  question,  and  I  repeated  it. 

"  But  what  is  to  be  done,  Mr.  Peyton  ?" 

I  spoke  hurriedly,  for  we  were  at  the  Moss-side  gate. 

"  Ah  !  here  we  are  at  home,"  was  all  the  answer  I  got. 

We  dismounted. 

"  Walk  in,  Mr.  Peyton.     I  cannot  let  you  go  yet,"  I  urged. 

"Not  to-night,  Grace — not  to-night.  I  will  see  you  again 
noon." 

He  was  in  the  saddle,  and  had  wheeled  his  horse  from  me, 
when  the  echo  of  my  earnest  query  seemed  to  reach  his  wander- 
ing brain. 

"  0,  Grace  1  one  thing  1  Say  not  a  word  about  this  business 
>ef  jre  day  after  to-morrow,  and  never  breathe  to  any  one  that 
»ou  have  told  me  of  it  Good  night." 

I  obeyed  most  unwillingly.  I  did  not  relish  my  occupation  of 
picture-making  that  night  or  the  next  day.  I  had  seen  a  new 
phase  of  Life-trial — hard  and  unromautic — something  that  would 


96  MOS8-8IDE, 

affect  the  outward  estate,  while  it  wrung  the  heart.  Povetty, 
as  it  had  appeared  to  me  in  Mrs.  Bell's  situation,  was  very 
comely,  totally  unlike  the  grim  goblin  known  to  me  in  print. 
This  bond,  trifling  as  its  amount  sounded,  had  stripped  off  the 
mask,  and  I  shrank  from  the  s.'ght.  It  terrified  me  in  dreams, 
lad  ceased  not  to  torment  my  eyes  in  the  daylight.  I  could  not 
be  quiet  as  the  hours  wore  into  noon,  afternoon — and  the 
stretching  shadows  lazily  told  of  coming  night.  At  sunset  I 
went  into  the  porch  to  strain  my  vision  once  more  along  the 
road  to  Linden — Mr.  Peyton's  place. 

"  Miss  Grace  I"  spoke  some  one  beside  the  steps. 

I  bad  overlooked  old  Zack,  who  pulled  off  his  hat  with  the 
double  purpose  of  bowing,  and  of  presenting  me  with  a  note 
pinned  to  its  lining. 

"DEAR  (TRACK,"  wiote  Annie,  "you  were  so  kind  to  me  in  our  sorrow, 
that  I  must  tell  you  now  of  our  joy.  Mr.  Townley  has  been  here  again, 
but  with  what  different  tidings!  Only  think,  Grace,  the  creditors  have 
withdrawn  their  claims;  so  Mr.  Townley  learned  to-day.  He  could  give 
no  particulars,  but  I  surmise  from  something  which  escaped  him  that  thii 
generous  treatment  is  the  result  of  his  remonstrances,  offered  when  the 
bond  first  came  to  light.  If  so,  what  injustice  we  did  him  yesterday! 
The  thought  pierces  me  with  remorse  in  the  midst  of  my  happiness.  My 
heart  is  light  and  grateful — grateful  to  heaven  and  to  our  benefactor,  who- 
ever he  may  be.  Come  very  soon  and  see  us  in  the  home  that  is  still  ourt. 

"ANNIE  HELL." 

Mr.  Peyton  supped  with  us.  I  found  an  opportunity  to  show 
him  Annie's  billet. 

He  nodded  at  the  close — a  non-committal  gesture  that  by  no 
Beans  suited  my  humor. 

"  Well,"  I  demanded,  "  have  you  nothing  to  say  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  I  am  glad  our  friends  are  delivered  from  their  difficulty 
— very  much  pleased,  indeed  1" 

I  searched  his  countenance  for  some  twinkle  of  self-compJ* 


M088-8IDE.  97 

eency,  some  mark  of  inward  satisfaction  in  having  performed  a 
good  action.  I  might  have  scanned  the  blank  wall  with  equal 
chance  of  success.  Guileless  as  a  child  in  most  matters,  he  was 
helped  by  his  modesty  to  a  matchless  show  of  ignorance. 

"Do  you  believe  this  tale  of  Mr.  Towuley's?"  I  ptobed 
deeper. 

"  It  does  not  appear  likely  that  an  honest  man  would  deceive 
them  in  a  matter  of  such  importance,"  he  rejoined. 

"  Now,"  said  I,  walking  up  close  to  him,  "like  Annie,  I  havo 
my  surmises,  but  they  point  to  Mr.  Townley  only  as  the  instru- 
ment of  the  unknown  benefactor — and  excuse  me  for  saying  that 
H.  more  worthy  tool  would  not  have  been  hard  to  find." 

My  auditor  was  fidgeting  in  his  chair,  casting  ominous 
glances  at  his  hat ;  but  my  triumph  was  not  complete. 

"  And  this  incomparable  friend,"  I  pursued,  "  is  the  same, 
who,  with  trained  seamstresses  among  his  own  servants,  has 
extra  work  sufficient  to  afford  constant  employment  to  the 
widow  and  her  daughter,  whose  large  plantation,  stocked  with 
everything  that  a  provident  housekeeper  can  need,  does  not 
produce  enough  eggs,  butter,  or  honey  to  obviate  the  necessity 
of  purchasing  each  and  all  of  these  commodities  when  old  Zack 
\s  the  vender." 

He  was  on  his  feet,  but  I  had  secured  his  hat  and  held  it 
behind  me.  By  this  time,  my  gaiety  had  made  way  for  feelings 
more  truly  heart-felt.  I  took  the  hand  which  would  have  seized 
his  detained  property.  I  could  have  bent  the  knee  in  reverence 
before  him — this  shy,  stammering  man,  who  looked  more  like  a 
culprit  than  the  kingly  soul  he  was. 

"If  the  prayer  of  the  widowed  and  fatherless  can  win  bles- 
sings, you  A'ill  be  wealthy  in  mercies,  Mr.  Peyton.  You  practise 
what  others  preach  of  the  brotherhood  of  humanity." 

"  It  is  all  I  have  to  live  for,  Grace — all — all  I     Let  m*»  go 
now,  and  keep  our  secret,  little  sister." 
5 


98  M088-8IDE. 

If  1  were  limning  a  fictitious  character,  this  frieud  should, 
perhaps,  be  suffered  more  frequently  to  occupy  the  back-ground 
his  humble  estimate  of  himself  would  persuade  him  to  select ; 
but  I  have  other  use  for  him  than  merely  to  prompt  him  to 
utter  his  chance  phrase  in  dialogue  and  chorus.  There  is  no 
room  upon  the  list  of  the  world's  heroes  for  those  who  are  great 
in  goodness  alone,  and  my  lowly  annals  are  the  only  pages  that 
toe  recital  of  his  virtues  will  ever  enrich. 

"  The  only  pages,"  said  I  ?  My  pen  moves  more  solemnly  at 
tne  thought  of  another  record,  which  time  can  never  fade  ;  in 
wnose  lines  of  light  no  note  is  made  of  deeds  which  men  glorify 
as  "Godlike"  and  "immortal,"  but  where  the  widower's  inito, 
the  Magdalene's  box  of  ointment,  the  disciple's  oup  of  cold 
water  are  encircled  by  haloes  of  undying  lustre. 

His  name  is  there  i 


M098-8IDE.  99 


CHAPTER  VII. 

IN  pity  for  my  loneliness,  May  wrote  frequently.  Wintei 
began  with  a  long  wet  spell,  and  this  had  continued  for  a  week 
when  I  had  a  letter  from  Frederic,  written  at  the  lowest  ebb 
of  her  own  spirits,  and  announcing  that  his  class  would  meet  as 
usual  during  the  Christmas  holidays  ;  -therefore,  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life,  he  must  spend  that  season  away  from  home. 
The  next  mail  took  to  May  a  je.remiade  blistered  with  the  drops 
I  had  110  power  to  restrain.  Forgetful  of  the  hundreds  of  miles 
that  divided  us  from  one  another,  I  adjured  her  in  the  names  of 
friendship  and  mercy  to  visit  me  in  my  affliction,  an  appeal  that 
might  have  softened  the  heart  of  a  stone,  but  which,  an  hour 
afterwards,  I  had  not  the  most  remote  idea  would  avail  ought 
to  remove  her  body  nearer  to  me. 

Judge,  then,  of  the  amaze  and  transport  that  ensued  upon 
reading  the  introductory  sentence  of  her  reply  ;  "  I  hope  to  be 
with  you,  Grace,  very  soon  after  you  get  this."  An  invalid 
cousin,  her  intimate  associate,  had  been  ordered  by  her  physi- 
cians to  Savannah  to  pass  the  winter  and  early  spring ;  and 
although  her  father  was  to  accompany  her,  she  had  entreated 
May's  attendance  also.  They  were  to  pass  Christmas  week  with 
friends  residing  in  Richmond,  and  May  intended  to  brave  bad 
roads  and  a  comfortless  conveyance,  and  spend  that  tune  by 
our  country  fireside,  unless  she  should  be  met  in  the  city  by  a 
letter  from  me,  discouraging  the  attempt. 

My  heart  was  beating  its  fastest  and  wannest  thus  far  ;  whj 


100  M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  K. 

should  it  be  checked  with  a  suddenness  that  caused  physical 
pain,  as  I  read  on  ? 

"  Herbert  Wynne,  who  is  anxious  for  a  glimpse  of  Virginia 
Christmas  customs,  will  go  with  us  to  Richmond.  May  I  accept 
bis  proffered  protection  to  and  from  Moss-side  ?  If  any  circum- 
stances unknown  to  me,  would  render  our  coming  a  source  of 
inconvenience,  state  the  truth  without  fear,  and  I  will  answer 
that  he  shall  not  be  offended.  Both  of  us  together  can  but 
poorly  supply  your  brother's  place  to  you,  but  I  have  not  read 
your  heart  by  mine  for  so  long  to  doubt  that  you  will  be  more 
happy  to  have  me  with  you  than  if  I  were  away." 

I  danced  into  i^e  room  where  sat  my  father  and  aunt,  in  such 
a  whirlwind  of  joyousness  that  both  started  and  exclaimed, 
11  What  is  the  matter  ?" 

"  Read  and  see  1"  I  cried,  giving  the  open  letter  to  my  father, 
»nd  perching  myself  upon  his  knee. 

He  was  as  much  delighted  as  I  could  have  asked. 

"  I  congratulate  you  with  all  my  heart,"  he  said.  "  No  news 
could  have  been  more  welcome.  I  have  feared  lest  your  Christ- 
mas should  be  a  mefancholy  one.  Aunt  Agnes,  we  must  bethink 
ourselves  of  all  the  nice  things  procurable  for  the  entertainment 
»f  our  little  girl's  guests.  It  is  not  every  year  that  May  visits 
*s  in  December." 

"  A  pun  !  positively  a  pun  !"  shouted  I,  clapping  my  hands. 
"  Father,  you  rival  Mr.  Townley  1" 

He  held  me  upon  his  knee,  his  face  beaming  as  by  reflected 
radiance  from  mine,  entering  with  interest  and  spirit  into  all  my 
propositions  as  to  the  preparations  for,  and  reception  of,  the 
eagerly-expected  favorites.  Not  one  stipulation  for  his  persona 
privileges  ;  not  one  suggestion  of  economy  or  hint  of  any  kind 
hindered  the  complete  blossoming  of  my  pleasure 

"  Very  well  1"  was  the  conclusion  of  our  consultation.  "  Con- 
lider  everything  upon  the  plantation — servants,  house,  storea, 


MOSS-BIDE, 


101 


End  last  and  least,  my  poor  services— at  your  disposal  until  New 
Year's  day." 

As  I  put  up  my  lips  for  a  kiss  he  added,  "  So  good  a  dan-Met 
is  entitled  to  some  reward.  I  am  only  sorry  that  my  wishes  for 
her  welfare  and  enjoyment  outrun  my  ability  to  advance  them." 

This  was  the  "  top-sparkle  "  of  my  cup.  How  quickly  my  feet 
skimmed  the  floor  and  staircase  that  day  ;  how  gaily  resounded 
my  songs  from  cellar  to  roof ;  how  ready  were  my  hands  to  pull 
down  and  set  up— too  restless  to  await  the  sluggish  or  deliberate 
movements  of  the  corps  of  assistants,  my  father,  true  to  his 
word,  marshalled  for  my  orders.  Paint  and  floors  were  to  to 
scoured  ;  walls  to  be  swept ;  windows  washed  ;  beds  shaken 
and  sunned,  and  furniture  polished.  Never  before  had  Moss-side 
undergone  such  furious  renovation.  After  portioning  out  work 
to  the  rest,  and  seeing  them  fairly  at  it,  I  took  Martha,  my  own 
maid,  with  me  to  my  room. 

The  preceding  day  I  had  been  congratulating  myself  upon  its 
neat  and  home-like  appearance  ;  but  under  our  vigorous  treat- 
ment, it  was  presently  as  disorderly  as  the  apartments  we  had 
left.  The  carpet  was  home-made,  but  new.  Its  stripes  of  red 
and  green  were  bright,  yet  not  glaring,  and  were  well  con- 
trasted. I  did  not  quarrel  with  it,  although  I  remembered  that 
May's  chamber  was  supplied  with  an  ingrain  more  costly  than 
the  best  in  our  house — that  upon  the  parlor  floor.  I  was  careful 
that  no  other  high  colors  should  displease  the  eye.  Counter- 
pane, curtains,  ottomans,  and  chairs  were  chaste  white.  White 
china  vases  upon  the  mantel  held  sprigs  of  cedar  and  holly, 
studded  with  blue  and  scarlet  berries  ;  and  between  them- 
the  only  place  in  the  room  where  a  picture  could  be  hung — waa 
a  drawing  Louise  had  given  me  as  a  keepsake  at  the  end  of  our 
last  session.  It  was  a  beautiful  female  head,  with  waving  hail 
floating  off  into  shadow  ;  a  face,  girlish  in  feature  and  contour 
but  in  the  heavenward  look,  there  was  an  eloquence  of  sorrow 


102  MOSS-SIDE. 

inch  tender  years  should  never  know,  and  the  mouth  seemed 
shaping  a  prayer  for  strength.  Even  in  my  happy  preoccupa- 
tion of  thought,  I  stayed  the  cloth  with  which  I  was  dusting 
glass  and  frame,  to  wonder  at,  and  admire  the  beauty  that  was 
ever  there,  however  often  1  might  seek  for  it. 

"  That's  a  mighty  pretty  lady,"  said  Martha,  '  but,  somehow 
I  don't  like  tu  look  at  her.  'Pears  to  me  like  her  heart  was  a- 
breakin',  and  she  was  a-prayiu'  to  die.  I  tries  not  to  see  her 
when  I'm  a-cleanin'  up  in  here,  days.  I  always  want  to  cry  if 
I  do.  You're  a-sighin'  yourself,  Miss  Grace.  Put  her  back 
and  don't  think  no  more  about  her  and  her  pitiful  eyes." 

Frederic's  chamber  was  just  across  the  entry,  and  was  to  be 
prepared  for  Herbert.  Like  mine,  it  had  dormer  windows  front 
and  back  ;  sloping  walls,  and  an  open  fire-place,  its  hearth 
whitened  with  pipe-clay.  My  buoyancy  received  a  check  from 
the  thought  that  its  inmate  must  bow  his  head  to  pass  under  the 
lowly  lintel,  and  that  he  could  stand  upright  nowhere  except  in 
,he  middle  of  the  apartment.  For  an  instant,  all  about  me  wai 
poverty-stricken  and  mean  ;  but  I  spurned  the  unworthy  weak 
ness,  and  fell  to  work  with  redoubled  ardor.  A  softer  feeling 
touched  my  heart  as  I  wiped  off  and  replaced  the  books  on  the 
Bhelves  beneath  the  slant  of  one  wall. 

Again  Martha  interrupted  my  meditations. 

"  It's  a  mortal  pity  Mars'  Frederic  aint  comin'  home  holiday 
I  don'  know  how  you'll  stand  it,  Miss  Grace.  He  is  'quainted 
wid  de  lady  and  gentleman  you're  'spcctin' — aint  he  ?" 

"  Yes,"  I  said. 

"  I  reckon  he'll  be  dreadfully  put  out  at  missin'  'em." 

I  "  reckoned  "  so  too  with  a  certainty  she  did  not  suspect 
yet  I  was  equally  sure  that  May  would  not  have  answered  my 
prayer  so  agreeably  and  unexpectedly,  but  for  my  statement 
that  he  who  would  have  welcomed  her  with  most  rapture,  would 
*ot  be  at  home  to  receive  ner.    Free  from  prudish  affectatio* 


MO8B-81DE  10?> 

she  was,  yet  she  was  at  all  times  governed  by  the  most  zlelicate 
sense  of  propriety.  She  had  a  deal  of  character,  and  resolution 
to  maintain  it — this  petted  plaything  of  ours.  Since  it  was  im- 
possible for  my  brother  to  leave  his  studies,  I  resolved,  with 
marvellous  self-denial,  not  to  tell  him  of  the  distinguished  honui 
to  be  conferred  upon  the  homestead,  until  it  should  be  too  lale 
or  him  to  torture  himself  with  ideas  of  reaching  us  in  season  to 
get  a  taste  of  it  for  himself.  I  applied  the  last  screw  to  thia 
determination  on  my  way  down  stairs  for  some  article  needful  in 
our  task. 

My  father  was  folding  a  letter. 

"  I  have  sent  your  love  to  Frederic,"  he  remarked.  "  The  poor 
boy  has  been  much  in  my  mind  to-day  ;  and  although  I  am 
aware  that  it  will  not  compensate  to  him  for  the  loss  of  our 
society  and  that  of  your  friends,  I  could  not  resist  the  impulse 
to  forward  him  something  with  which  to  purchase  a  Christmas- 
box  and  make  merry  with  his  mates." 

I  wisely  forbore  to  offer  opposition,  and  resigned  the  useless 
resolve  it  had  cost  me  so  much  to  make,  without  an  intimation 
of  its  existence  to  the  dear  father,  who  believed  that  he  was 
promoting  his  son's  happiness  in  what  he  did. 

One  of  my  choice  plants — a  double  oleander — standing  upon 
the  floor,  tapped  the  upper  sash  of  Herbert's  southern  window 
with  its  pink  blossoms,  and  a  citronaloes,  as  tall,  made  balmy  the 
air  of  the  room  to  be  occupied  by  May  and  myself.  Every  un- 
carpeted  board  was  brilliant  from  the  application  of  scrubbing* 
brush  and  wax  ;  the  yard  was  raked  of  dead  leaves  and  grass  ; 
a  dry  covering  of  gravel  rolled  into  the  walks  ;  bed-linen  and 
window-hangings  were  immaculate,  and  the  last  day  of  waiting 
which  was  that  before  Christmas,  I  had  not  enough  to  do  to 
beguile  one  of  the  dragging  hours.  My  aunt  had,  in  her  pro« 
Vince,  accomplished  more  than  I  had  in  inine,  and  without  one 
tenth  of  the  bustle.  Had  a  regiment  been  billeted  upon  us,  we 


104  MOBS-SIDE. 

could  have  fed  them  bountifully  for  the  week  May's  letter  named 
as  the  utmost  extent  of  the  sojourn  of  a  gentleman  and  lady 
whose  gastrouomical  abilities  were  not  of  the  highest  order.  AU 
was  rsady  here,  too,  or  I  would  have  begged,  as  a  favor,  to  be 
allowed  to  beat  eggs  and  spread  icing. 

My  aunt  was  an  upright  fixture  in  her  rocking-chair,  which 
never  moved  while  she  filled  it.  She  darned  stockings  the  entire 
morning  with  a  perseverance  wearying  to  behold.  My  father 
had  gone  to  the  village — "  the  Court  House " — three  miles 
away,  and  I  had  no  one  else  to  talk  with. 

"  Aunt  I"  I  ejaculated,  as  she  rolled  up  the  sixth  pair  of  hose 
"  I  wish  you  would  teach  me  patience." 

"  I  had  not  learned  it  when  I  was  of  your  age,"  was  th« 
response. 

The  needle  recommenced  its  course,  creeping  in  and  out, 
under,  then  over  a  stitch,  and  the  worsted  trailed  after  it.  My 
eye  followed  it ;  my  thoughts  were  revolving  my  aunt's  words. 
I  doubt  whether  this  were  not  the  first  reference  to  her  early 
life  I  had  ever  heard,  for  it  impressed  me  as  a  novel  idea. 

Youth  !  and  an  impatient  youth  1  one  like  mine  !  Imagina- 
tion refused  to  sketch  it  as  a  companion  picture  to  the  passion- 
less maturity  before  me.  I  could  more  easily  have  recognized  un 
extinct  volcano  in  one  of  the  snow-topped  granite  hills  I  had 
seen  in  the  summer. 

"  Will  I  ever  acquire  it  ?"  I  asked. 

"  If  it  is  needful  that  you  should." 

"  I  wonder  what  teacher  will  set  the  lesson  ?" 

"  That  which  instructs  all,  sooner  or  later — Experience,  I  sap 
DOSO,"  answered  my  aunt. 

I  changed  my  seat  to  her  footstool,  for  something  in  her  matt 
uer  attracted  me  more  than  common. 

"  Aunt  Agnes,  you  will  think  me  very  silly  ;  but  please 
explain  what  you  mean  by  Experience.  I  have  an  indefinite 


MOSS-SIDE.  lOt 

notion  that  it  is  an  unpleasant  acquaintance  ;  yet  it  is  used  so 
vag-iely,  generally,  that  it  conveys  no  sense  to  my  mind.  Am  3 
to  learn  to  be  patient  through  trial,  or  will  each  year  quench 
some  of  the  fire  in  my  blood  ?  Will  it  be  a  short,  severe  task, 
or  will  the  work  be  accomplished  gradually  and  imperceptibly  t« 
myself  ?" 

"  I  have  not  the  gift  of  second  sight  to  inform  me  whav 
means  will  be  employed  in  your  case.  They  vary  essentially  in 
different  instances." 

I  watched  the  creeping  needle  awhile  longer — in  and  out,  a 
leap  over  a  gaping  hole,  then  in  and  out  on  the  other  bide. 

Its  motion  may  have  instigated  my  next  speech.  "  I  think  I 
should  prefer  to  have  all  I  must  suffer  summed  up  in  one  lesson  ; 
to  grapple  with  one  mighty  trouble,  and  be  prepared  by  it  for 
the  battle  of  life,  to  meeting  with  minor  difficulties  daily,  get- 
ting under  some  and  over  others." 

"  Most  people  are  obliged  to  submit  to  both  kinds  of  disci 
pline,"  observed  my  aunt. 

"  Were  you  ?"  I  asked,  unthinkingly. 

I  was  frightened  at  my  temerity  ere  the  sound  of  my  voice 
died  away.  No  increase  of  coldness  resented  it. 

"  Each  one  o.  us  is  apt  to,  fancy  his  lot  peculiar.  Mine  has, 
no  doubt,  a  thousand  parallels.  No  mortal  suffers  more  than  he 
deserves,  for  God  is  more  merciful  than  man." 

"  Yet  in  my  short  life,  I  have  witnessed  what  are  rightly 
called  '  mysterious  Providences,'  "  I  pursued — "  afflictions,  that 
would  have  been  cried  out  against  as  cruel  and  unmerited  if  mau 
had  produced  them.  Were  they  sent  in  mercy  ?" 

"  Or  in  judgment  I" 

My  inquiries  were  brought  to  an  end.  I  went  back  to  my 
chair  with  a  strange  sensation  of  awe  upon  me.  But  I  had 
learned  something. 

This  woman,  ever  calm,  ever  reserved  to  hauteur,  had  uof 
5* 


106  MOSS-SIDE. 

grown  so  by  the  natural  process  of  time  ;  as  the  oak,  whose  but. 
century  is  on  the  wane,  puts  forth  every  spring,  fewer  leaves, 
until  there  comes  one  March,  when  the  wind  that  strains  and 
tears  its  boughs,  and  the  sunbeams  that  caress  them,  fail  to  stir 
the  sap  from  the  roots,  where  the  thin  drops  dried  away  in  the 
autumn.  The  vitality  of  this  heart  was  destroyed  at  a  stroke. 
She  had  said  that  the  work  of  patient  endurance  was  in  some 
carried  on  and  completed  by  smaller  trials,  prior  and  subsequent 
to  one  great  calamity  ;  but  none  of  these  petty  grievances  had 
power  over  her  now.  Was  she  deadened  or  stoical  to  their 
influence  ?  And  this  was  the  fate  my  thoughtless  declaration 
had  bespoken  for  myself !  I  cast  by  the  book  I  pretended  tr 
read,  and  roamed  from  room  to  room,  over  yard  and  garden,  fol« 
lowed  everywhere  by  the  solemn  tone  that  had  sealed  my  lips — 
"  Or  in  judgment  I" 

My  father's  shout  to  the  hostler  recalled  me  to  the  house. 

"  Ha,  Puss  1"  he  greeted  me.  "  The  morning  has  been  right 
tedious,  has  it  not  ?  Let  me  whisper  a  secret  that  may  lengthen 
the  afternoon  and  night,  in  spite  of  May's  presence.  I  have  a 
present  for  you  and  one  for  her  in  my  pocket,  which  you  are  not 
to  see  until  to-morrow.  And  now  we  will  try  what  dinner  can 
do  towards  relieving  us  of  an  houc." 

It  did  this  very  ungraciously  for  me.  In  the  hall  stood  an 
ancient  clock  that  nearly  touched  the  ceiling.  Its  broad  face 
was  yellow  and  blotched  ;  the  ship  and  moon,  once  an  accurate 
calendar  of  Luna's  changes,  were  fast  locked  by  rust  upon 
their  pivot.  The  pendulum  vibrated  very  dignified  seconds  at 
the  end  of  six  feet  of  wire,  with  a  "  never-give-up-the-ship  "  air, 
and  a  general  expression  of  irresponsibility  for  the  conduct  of 
any  other  part  of  the  machinery,  while  it  did  its  duty  in  it 
allotted  station  ;  but  the  striking  apparatus  wanted  its  com- 
mendable spirit.  Five  minutes  before  the  hour  was  to  be 
sounded,  a  terrifically  dismal  groan  issued  from  the  capacioup 


MOSS     SIDE.  107 

chest  of  the  chronometer — so  doleful,  that  the  hands  seemed  to 
dread  the  stern  law  that  compelled  them  to  order  the  strokes 
thus  deprecated.  At  the  fatal  moment,  the  grumbling,  thumn 
iiig,  and  shrieking  that  jarred  the  very  floor,  were  appalling  and 
indescribable;  then,  with  a  hoarse  murmur  of  exhaustion,  the  bell 
wa5  mute  for  sixty  minutes  more.  The  discordant  clash  was 
harmony  to  me  to-day,  listened  for  most  anxiously,  until  I  felt 
assured  that  before  it  pealed  again,  realization  would  have  swaJ 
lowed  up  expectancy. 

Then,  like  the  coward  I  was,  fear  and  trembling  took  hold  of 
me.  As  the  safest  place,  in  the  panic  that  possessed  me,  I  went 
to  my  father's  room.  He  was  four  columns  deep  in  his  newspa- 
per, and  I  crept  to  the  rug  at  his  feet.  One  arm  embraced  his 
knee,  while  I  began  to  examine  the  cause  of  this  preposterous 
nightmare. 

"  Were  not  those  whom  I  feared  to  see,  dearer  to  me  than 
any  others  on  earth  ?  that  is — correcting  myself — next,  of 
course,  to  my  father  and  brother.  Had  they  not  travelled  this 
distance  in  winter  weather  to  see  me,  the  ingrate,  whose  knees 
were  smiting  together  at  every  sound  like  the  trampling  of  horaes 
or  rattle  of  wheels  ?  And  what  is  the  dread  ?  May  will  spring  to 
my  bosom,  and  kiss  me,  as  I  have  pined  to  have  her  do,  so  often 
since  we  parted.  Herbert's  salutation  will  be  more  formal,  only 
because  custom  enjoins  the  difference.  His  voice  used  to  be  mu- 
sical— his  smile  most  genial — his  conversation  more  than  accept- 
able ;  1  know  he  has  not  altered  ;  where  then  " — I  rated  my 
shaking  heart — "  where  is  the  use  or  sense  of  this  disgracef  1 
behavior  ?" 

The  whimperer  shivered  anew,  and  had  no  other  reply  to 
render. 

The  premonitory  iron  groan  echoed  through  the  hall,  and  J 
started  as  at  the  discharge  of  a  gun. 

My  father  raised  the  paper  that  he  might  see  me. 


108 


MOSS-SICK. 


"  Why,  little  one  !  we  are  growing  restless — but  coinage  !  w« 
will  not  hare  to  wait  many  minutes  now." 

Which  was  not  the  most  apropos  observation  he  could  have 
made. 

He  read  on,  and  I  shivered  in  the  same  weak,  nervous  chill, 
Until  wheels,  hammer,  and  bell  creaked  and  roared  that  it  was 
five  o'clock. 

"  There  they  are  I"  said  my  father,  rising  quickly, 

I  also  saw,  through  the  window,  the  carriage  we  had  seat 
that  morning  to  the  nearest  stage-house.  I  did  not  loiter  ;  yet 
my  father  was  at  the  gate,  shaking  hands  with  Herbert,  when  I 
was  half-way  down  the  walk.  As  I  came  up,  he  lifted  May  to 
the  ground,  and — whether  she  made  the  offer  or  not,  is  still  a 
mooted  question— he  kissed  her  as  he  sat  her  down.  Gone  was 
the  bugbear  that  had  beset  me  so  pertinaciously,  when  I  caught 
Bight  of  that  sweet  face.  I  had  her  in  my  arms,  both  of  us 
laughing  and  saying  all  manner  of  foolish  nothings  to  keep  down 
the  tears. 

My  aunt  was  upon  the  porch.  She  spoke  kindly  to  May,  and 
rather  stiffly  to  Herbert,  although  she  regarded  him  with  earnest 
momentary  attention.  I  was  blithe  aa  a  bird  throughout  that 
evening— even  when  I  saw  Herbert  bow  involuntarily  as  he 
passed  into  the  parlor,  and  recollected  that  this  precaution  would 
be  necessary  on  going  to  his  chamber.  May  and  I  were  in  no 
haste  to  quit  ours  after  her  travelling  attire  was  laid  off.  She 
beautified  the  place,  as  warm  sunshine  and  freshly-blooming 
flowers  would  have  done. 

Choosing,  as  was  always  her  caprice,  the  lowest  seat  she  could 
Set— a  mere  cushion,  around  which  her  dark-blue  drapery  lay 
*pon  the  carpet,  she  lifted  her  face  to  me  with  a  sigh  and  smilo 
of  perfect  content. 

"  I  am  very  happy,  Gracie  i ' 

Had  she  felt  less,  she  would  have  enlarged  upon  her  joy  at  oui 


M  O  8  8-  8  I  D  E 


109 


re-union,  her  satisfaction  with  the  cottage  I  had,  so  shortly  be- 
fore, feared  she  might  despise.  I  understood  all  that  she  meant 
and  thenceforth,  not  one  sting  of  false  pride  threatened  mj 
health  of  mind.  Upon  most  other  topics  we  were  fluent,  and,  to. 
u  mere  listener,  would  have  beeu  ridiculously  diffuse.  Yet  we 
rejoined  the  gentlemen,  feeling  that  the  preliminaries  of  our  con- 
fabulation had  scarcely  been  entered  upon. 

My  father  and  Herbert,  acting  upon  the  principle  of  their  self- 
introduction,  were  talking  like  old  friends  ;  and  I  was  ready  to 
repent  the  vanity  that  had  hurried  us  down,  in  the  fear  that  our 
absence  would  be  noted  and  lamented.  It  was  plain  that  my 
father  had  received  my  darling  May  rosebud  into  his  affectionate 
favor.  I  waited  to  see  him  place  her  in  the  most  comfortable 
chair  in  the  room,  and  then  gave  myself  up  to  be  entertained  by 
Mr.  Wynne.  I  had  thought  him  kind  and  sincere  during  our 
former  intercourse  ;  but  there  was  now  an  unreserved  display  of 
his  real  nature  :  a  complete  freedom  from  the  bonds  of  that  con- 
ventionalism which  ruled,  in  some  degree,  all  in  the  sphere  we 
then  occupied,  an  earnest  truth  in  look  and  language,  so  mani- 
fest and  so  winning,  that  my  esteem  and  confidence  grew  to  be 
absolute.  But  one  thing  chilled  me.  In  our  summer  tour,  he 
had  learned  to  call  me  "  Grace,"  a  name  I  thought  very  beauti- 
ful as  pronounced  by  him.  To-night  it  was  "  Miss  Grace  "— 
occasionally  "  Miss  Leigh."  I  bore  it  till  tea-time,  then  entered 
a  protest. 

He  laughed.  "  I  will  tell  you  a  story  relative  to  this  matter 
ome  day.  If  upon  hearing  it,  you  still  wish  me  to  dispense  with 
the  '  Miss,'  I  will  be  rejoiced  to  obey." 

The  evening  was  not  cold,  and  as  a  consequence,  the  parlor 
fire  was  larger  and  blazed  more  fiercely  than  if  the  thermometer 
had  been  stationary  at  zero.  We  were  driven  back  by  th« 
heat  to  the  centre-table,  and  there  clustered,  as  hilarious  a  house' 
hold  as  that  Christmas  Eve  saw  in  all  the  land.  My  aunt  had 


110  M  O  S  8  -  8  I  D  E  . 

least  to  say,  yet  several  times  her  features  were  lighted  with 
pleasurable  emotion  at  a  lively  sally  from  May,  or  the  fine  play 
of  Herbert's  humor.  Her  stiffness  bent  before  his  respectful 
overtures,  and  he,  as  he  aferwards  told  me,  was  struck  with  her 
appearance,  exhibiting  as  it  did  the  remains  of  beauty  of  no 
common  cast,  and  the  natural  elegance  of  every  sentence  she 
tittered.  She  inclined  to  him  more  and  more  as  their  conversa- 
tion progressed.  One  precious  instant,  while  May  was  at  the 
pia  o,  playing  with,  not  upon,  the  keys,  and  talking,  instead  oi 
singing  to  my  father,  I  took  a  mental  photograph — as  distinct 
to-day  as  it  was  then — unsuspected  by  its  original.  Fire  and 
candles  sent  flickers  of  uncertain  brightness  over  his  face  ;  the 
high  brow,  heaped  with  dark  hair,  the  speaking  eyes,  the  mouth 
small,  yet  too  firm  to  be  feminine — and  I  thought  how  benignant 
was  the  mood  in  which  Nature  had  created  him.  It  was  an  in- 
viting, and  certainly  an  innocent  study  that  engaged  me,  but  my 
aunt's  eye,  arrested  by  my  rapt  gaze,  awoke  in  me  a  shame  I 
could  neither  define  nor  justify.  The  glance  was  rapid  and  con- 
tained no  rebuke.  There  may  have  been  love  in  it.  I  could 
have  thought  so,  had  it  ever  beamed  thus  on  me  before.  Its 
significance  rendered  me  more  cautious  in  what  direction  my 
regards  strayed  ;  taught  me  the  earliest  lesson  in  concealment 
practised  towards  one,  who  had  claimed  no  title  from  me  except 
that  of  brother. 

At  the  hour  of  retiring,  indicated  by  May's  languid  eyelids, 
my  father,  with  true  patriarchal  dignity,  collected  all  his  flock  ; 
the  servants  drawn  up  in  a  decent  row  near  the  entrance,  we 
kneeiing  about  him,  while  he  offered  thanksgivings  for  the  price- 
less, but  often  unremembered  blessings  of  health,  outward  ani 
mental  tranquillity,  and  petitions  for  their  continuance,  with  a 
richer  endowment  of  spiritual  graces. 

One  grey-headed  negro  remained  after  his  fellows  with 
drew. 


MOSS-SIDE.  Ill 

"  Well,  Isaac,"  said  my  father,  "  what  do  you  \vant  ?" 

"  Yon  have  no  objection  to  us  keepin'  watch  to-night,  I  jop« 
sir." 

"  Who  are  here  ?"  inquired  his  master. 

"  Nobody  but  our  own  folks,  sir." 

"  Then  you  can  watch  as  late  as  you  please.  I  am  not  afraid 
of  your  getting  disorderly." 

"  Thank  you,  sir.  We  won't  disappint  you,  sir  ;"  and  he  dis- 
appeared. 

Herbert  looked  an  inquiry. 

"  This  is  a  custom  of  which  you  have  not  been  informed,"  said 
my  father,  smiling.  "  Shakspeare  tells  us  that  chickens  sing 
wakefully  all  night  as  Christmas  draws  near  ;  and  our  servants 
add  that  neither  beasts  nor  birds  sleep  the  night  of  the  twenty- 
fourth  ;  an  example  they  hold  to  be  worthy  of  imitation  by  their 
master,  Man.  They — the  negroes — collect  about  eleven  o'clock, 
and  pass  in  prayer  and  singing  the  remaining  hour  of  the  night 
proper.  This  they  style,  "watching  in  Christmas" — a  vigil 
often  continued  into  the  dawn.  I  hope  they  will  not  disturb  your 
slumbers." 

"The  novelty  of  the  serenade  will  prevent  any  annoyance,  I 
imagine,"  replied  Herbert. 

May  and  I  were  ready  for  bed,  when  a  strain  of  music  entered 
our  room.  She  was  instantly  wide-awake  and  curious.  The  air 
was  very  soft,  and  after  I  had  wrapped  her  up  securely,  I  yielded 
to  her  entreaties  to  open  the  window.  As  I  did  so,  I  heard  an 
other  sash  raised  in  the  chamber  opposite  ours.  The  cabin  of 
gathering  was  crowded,  as  we  could  see  through  the  door,  left 
ajar  on  account  of  the  stifling  heat  within.  A  hymn  was  given 
out,  two  lines  at  a  time,  by  Isaac,  who  stood  in  the  centre  of  the 
assembly,  and  sung  with  decorous  gravity  A  prayer  succeeded 
it,  by  which  we  were  not  greatly  proflted,  no  intelligible  word 
reaching  us  Then  came  a  chorus,  ringing  energetically  through 


112  MOSS-BIDE. 

the  night,  and  our  pulses  leaped  to  the  fantastic,  but  excitmg 
measure  : — 

"  Swing  low  the  chariot,  Lord, 

Swing  low  the  chariot,  Lord, 

Don't  leave  me  behind  !" 

The  singers  entered  enthusiastically  into  the  spirit  of  the  song, 
waying  with  its  swell  and  fall,  rising  to  their  feet,  and  uplifting 
hands  and  eyes,  as  if  to  stay  the  flight  of  the  fiery  chariot. 

Another  prayer,  and  this  time  we  did  not  lose  a  syllable.  The 
speaker  was  a  young  man  and  a  Boanerges  in  enunciation.  The 
fervent,  varying  tones,  that  in  an  educated  white,  would  have 
been  ludicrous  in  their  seeming  affectation — as  they  swelled  from 
his  mouth,  were  music,  wild  and  rude  indeed,  yet  a  continued 
musical  theme,  expressive  as  wild,  powerful  as  rude.  It  de- 
tracted nothing  from  its  solemnity,  was  rather  in  keeping  witi 
its  disdain  of  all  shackles  of  art  or  custom,  that  the  Deity  wa« 
addressed  as  "my  Father" — "you"  and  "your"  substituted  for 
the  usual  "thou"  and  "they."  A  written  transcript  of  this 
extraordinary  petition  would  be  tame  and  most  unjust  ;  would 
fail  to  explain  its  effect  upon  us,  for  May  was  weeping  on  my 
shoulder  at  its  close,  and  my  heart  overflowed  as  I  listened  to 
the  concluding  petition  : — 

"  And  after  you  have  remembered  with  abundant  blessings, 
crowded,  shaked  down  and  running  over,  all  the  saints  in  the 
univarsal  world  ;  all  mourning  souls,  seeking  for  rest  and  finding 
none  ;  all  hard-hearted,  impenitent,  out-daring  sinners,  who  won't 
come  and  ask  for  mercy  ;  all  the  sick,  the  poor,  the  perishing  j 
the  masters  and  mistresses  of  this  family,  be  pleased,  0  my  Fa- 
ther, to  look  down  and  remember  poor  ignorant,  sinful  John 
You  are  high,  my  Father,  above  earth,  and  stars,  and  heaven, 
and  I  am  a  creeping  worm  of  the  dust  upon  your  footstool ;  bu 
you  have  promised,  and  you  cannot  lie,  that  whoever  conies  to 
you  shall  not  be  cast  out.  Be  pleased  to  keep  me  in  the  middle 


M  O  8  S-  a  I  D  E.  113 

of  the  channel  of  Faith,  keep  my  heart  from  evil  thoughts,  my 
tongue  from  evil  speaking,  and  my  hands  from  tvil  deeds."  * 

Herbert  spoke  when  he  ceased. 

"  .Where  did  that  man  learn  to  intone  prayers  ?  for  that  is 
the  finest  intoning  I  ever  heard.  We  may  as  well  close  the  win- 
dows. There  will  be  nothing  better  than  that." 

I  awoke  once  before  morning,  I  knew  not  why  until  I  put  my 
hand  towards  May.  She  was  sitting  upright 

"  Hist !"  she  whispered,  "  what  is  that  I" 

There  were  sounds  of  footsteps  about  the  house  ;  a  word  or 
two  spoken  in  an  undertone  ;  then  the  nocturnal  trampers  passed 
in  the  direction  of  the  quarters.  My  father's  door  was  shut 
quietly,  and  I  at  once  divined  that  the  watch  being  over,  he  had 
arisen  to  advise  some  stragglers  to  seek  their  beds — a  not  un- 
frequent  occurrence.  May  was  chill  and  trembling,  although 
she  laughed  at  her  alarm,  and  admitted  my  solution  U  be  most 
reasonable  ;  so  I  gathered  her  more  closely  to  me,  and  again  sh« 
ilept  upon  my  bosom 

*  A  verbatim  report. 


114  MOSS-SIDE: 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

W*  wcitj  aroused  by  a  shock  and  report  that  shook  the  earth 
•nd  made  the  windows  rattle.  It  was  broad  daylight,  and  be- 
side the  blazing  hearth  stood  Martha,  in  her  gala  attire,  highlj 
amused  at  our  fright. 

"  Law  I  Miss  Grace  I  you  ain't  afraid  of  a  Christmas  gun, 
what  you've  been  heerd  every  year  since  you  was  born  !" 

"  It  was  a  cannon,  then  ?"  said  May. 

"  No,  my  dear  lady  citizen  ;  we  have  another  species  of  ord- 
nance in  the  backwoods.  A  hollow  log  is  charged  with  powder, 
or  a  hole  i<5  bored  in  a  tree,  and  filled  with  the  same  combusti- 
ble, and  a  slow  match  applied,  with  what  effect  you  have  heard." 

Minor  explosions  interrupted  our  toilette,  and  the  cheers  from 
the  juvenile  corps,  who  chiefly  patronized  these  demonstrations, 
gave  us  some  idea  of  the  state  of  feeling  out  of  doors,  before  we 
descended  to  become  eye  witnesses  of  the  revelry.  A  swarm  of 
young  Ethiopians,  from  the  tottler  upon  his  trial  feet,  to  urchins 
of  twelve  or  fourteen  years  old,  paraded  with  shining  faces  and 
clean  clothes  before  the  back  porch.  At  sight  of  me,  they  were 
pushed  and  hustled  into  line  by  Joe,  a  half-grown  boy.  "  Mind 
your  manners,  sir  1"  "  Hats  off  !"  "  Bow  to  the  ladies,  all  of 
you  1"  were  the  words  of  command.  Martha  brought  forward 
a  large  basket,  from  which  I  drew  some  trifle  for  each  one ; 
Bugar-plums  and  cakes  for  the  lesser  fry,  toys,  mostly  of  domestii 
manufacture,  for  the  elder.  Their  mothers  received  from  my 
aunt  more  useful  articles.  Children  do  not  value  presents 
according  to  their  intrinsic  worth.  There  was  not  a  girl  of 


M  O  8  6  -  8  I  D  E  .  116 

them,  who  would  not  have  chosen  a  rag-doll  in  preference  to  a 
fine  apron  ;  nor  a  boy,  who  would  not  have  proved  himself  as 
anti-utilitarian,  had  a  whistling-top  and  a  jacket  been  offered  tc 
him. 

"  You  have  made  twenty  hearts  happy — a  good  morning* 
work  !"  said  Herbert,  behind  me. 

I  was  on  my  knees  beside  the  hamper,  from  which  I  w&* 
emoving  the  sole  remaining  article,  a  flashy  waistcoat  for  Joe, 
who  was  supposed,  in  virtue  of  his  semi-manhood,  to  be  above 
playthings. 

"  Master  Frederic  sent  it  to  you,"  I  observed,  handing  him  the 
garment  of  many  colors. 

The  lad  stared  open-mouthed,  and  did  not  offer  to  take  it. 

"  Whar  ?  when,  Miss  Grace  ?  'Thought  Mars'  Frederic  was. 
fur  'nough  from  here — sixty  mile  and  better." 

So  he  is  I"  I  answered,  annoyed  at  this  uncivil  behavior  in  one 
generally  so  well-mannered.  "  He  sent  it  to  me  for  you  a  week 
ago.  I  am  sorry  to  have  to  tell  him  that  it  does  not  please  you, 
Joe." 

He  came  to  his  senses.  "  Please  me  !  bless  your  soul,  Miss 
Grace  I  the  President  of  Ameriky  aint  a  prouder  man  dan  I  is  ! 
When  you  write  to  Mars'  Frederic,  put  in  one  corner  of  your 
dokkeyment  that  I'se  mightily — I  may  say  'ternally  bleeged,  and 
how  I  means  to  drink  his  health  dis  happy  day  in  de  best'simmoc 
beer,  and  how  we  missed  him,  and  " 

Here  the  oration  blew  up  in  an  explosive  laugh  ;  and  forge* 
fill  of  respect  and  etiquette,  he  jumped  up,  struck  his  heels 
together  twice,  and  went  down  the  steps  at  a  bound. 

"  Joe's  got  Christmas  in  his  bones — certain  I"  said  Martha, 
*ho  was  his  sister,  and  much  mortified  at  this  violation  of  cere- 
mony. "  I  reckon  he's  done  taste  dat  beer  a'ready  dis 
morninV 

May  and  Herbert  enjoyed   the  scene  in  all  its  details,  ana 


116  M  O  8  8-8  I  D  E. 

relished  none  more  than  the  part  that  so  surprised  u.».  Jc* 
brought  an  armful  of  wood  into  the  parlor  while  we  were  i/vait 
ing  the  summons  to  breakfast,  and  once  more  outraged  rules  by 
dropping  part  of  it  pell-mell  upon  the  andircns,  and  rushing  from 
the  room,  again  to  vent  bis  exuberance  of  spirits  in  a  guffaw  ir 
the  hall. 

"  That  boy  is  bewitched  1"  said  I,  vexed,  yet  amused.  "  What 
you  now  see  is  not  a  correct  sample  of  our  every  day  govern- 
ment.' 

"  Which  cannot  be  arbitrary  at  any  time,"  replied  Herbert 
"  The  recollection  of  tyranny  is  not  so  readily  lost." 

"Breakfast  is  ready,"  announced  Joe,  white  aproii  on  and 
waiter  in  hand,  bolting  out  the  message  and  backing  precipitate- 
ly. His  smothered  giggle  preceded  us  to  the  dining-room,  anJ, 
although  he  pulled  on  a  long  face  when  my  father  commenced 
the  grace,  I  detected  him  in  the  very  act  of  gulping  down  a 
laugh  at  the  "  Amen." 

Under  each  plate  was  a  small  packet  which  was  immediately 
opened.  I  had  just  glanced  at  mine,  a  medallion,  enclosing  my 
father's  and  Frederic's  hair,  and  seen  that  May  held  its  twin, 
containing  a  lock  of  mine,  when  a  sort  of  buzz  went  around  the 
table  ;  my  head  was  drawn  back,  and  a  kiss  pressed  upon  my 
lips.  Joe  treated  us  to  one  "  haw  !  haw  1"  to  which  its  prede- 
cessors were  modest  titters,  and  dashed  through  the  nearest  door 
for  the  yard. 

It  was  Frederic  himself  I  his  face  joy-lit  and  sparkling,  hand- 
somer than  ever,  as  he  exchanged  greetings  with  all  except  his 
father.  After  a  deal  of  confusion,  all  talking  together  and 
aobody  listening,  we  were  prevailed  upon  to  resume  our  seats, 
ind  Frederic  was  allowed  to  clear  up  the  mystery  of  his  appari- 
ion  at  so  auspicious  a  juncture. 

"  1  thought  you  were  to  have  no  vacation,"  said  I. 

"  We  took  one,"  he  responded.     "  We  held  an  indignatior 


MOSS-SIDE.  117 

Meeting  over  this  curtailment  of  our  privileges  as  free-horn,  inde- 
pendent Virginians  ;  waited  upon  Dr.  Macon  in  a  committee  of 
the  whole,  and  apprised  him  of  our  resolution  to  frolic  for  a  week. 
He  is  a  good-hearted  old  gentleman,  take  him  all  in  all,  and 
agreed  to  overlook  our  insubordination.  I  set  out  yesterday 
morning  upon  a  borrowed  horse,  and  arrived  here  late  at  night." 

"  It  must  have  been  your  coming  that  awoke  us,"  I  inter 
•upted. 

May  crimsoned  and  said  nothing. 

"  I  suppose  so,  if  said  awaking  was  about  one  o'clock.  Joe, 
who  is  a  regular  night-bird,  was  prowling  around,  and  to  him  I 
intrusted  my  steed,  threatening  to  cut  his  ears  off  if  he  betrayed 
me  to  any  of  you  before  breakfast.  Father,  who  does  not  sleep 
much  more  than  Joe,  put  his  head  out  of  the  window,  and  as 
[  answered  his  challenge,  he  unlocked  the  door.  No  one  haa 
been  in  his  room  to-day  except  our  Eboe  confederate,  and  thus 
ends  the  tale  of  the  Midnight  Alarm  and  the  Morning  Sur- 


"  We  lack  but  two  of  our  travelling-party,"  remarked  Her- 
bert to  me,  as  we  four  were  left  together  in  the  sitting-room. 

Frederic  was  turning  over  an  Herbarium  of  his  own  collecting 
Tor  May's  amusement,  and  we  could  converse  apart.  I  had,  hither- 
to, contented  myself  with  casual  inquiries  about  Louise's  well- 
being,  but  my  look  showed  now  that  I  wished  to  hear  more. 

Herbert  answered  it. 

"  The  world  says  they  live  comfortably  with  one  another,  and 
Louise's  mother  can  see  nothing  amiss  ;  lauds  her  as  a  model  of 
matrimonial  propriety.  It  may  be  presumptuous  in  me  to  pre- 
tend to  be  more  sharp-sighted  than  these  competent  judges 
Wilsou  escorts  his  wife  everywhere,  and  it  is  known  publicly 
that  she  will  not  accept  indiscriminate  attentions  from  gentle- 
men This  is  unquestionaWy  as  it  should  be — is  very  well  so  fai 
as  it  goes." 


113  MO88-8IDE. 

His  .Vo  was  uarkedng,  and  I  spoke. 

"  I  hope  she  may  yet  regard  him  as  his  excellent  qualities  of 
disposition  and  heroic  conduct  deserve.  There  have  btes 
instances  of  love  after  marriage  when  circumstances  were  much 
less  propitious  than  in  this  union." 

"Do  not  believe  it.  Toleration  is  the  best  that  can  b 
expected.  This  Louise  may  practise  while  in  her  husband's  pre 
sence.  When  absent  from  him,  she  has  more  congenial  studies. 
A  woman  with  a  full,  satisfied  heart  has  no  unhealthy  thirst  for 
nleasure,  no  haunting  thoughts  to  flee.  Home  and  its  dear  ones 
jonceutre  her  aspirations.  Nor  is  her  intellect  necessarily 
cramped  because  she  has,  in  hackneyed  parlance, '  no  higher  ambi- 
tion.' For  the  sake  of  those  she  loves  she  will  raise  herself 
to  the  loftiest  standard  of  wouanhood.  In  the  daughter,  filial 
affection  will  prompt  this  effort  ;  and  the  true  woman,  when 
rightly  mated,  will  cultivate  every  faculty,  moral  and  mental,  that 
she  may  be  her  husband's  pride  and  soul-companion,  as  well  a* 
his  love  ;  that,  in  the  eyes  of  their  Maker,  they  may  form  tin 
united  Whole  He  designed  man  to  be  in  his  state  of  earthly 
perfection.  Am  I  wearisome?"  he  checked  himself.  "I  hope 
not,  for  I  am  just  coming  to  the  pith  of  the  matter." 

"  Go  on,"  I  said.     "  I  am  not  quite  tired  out." 

"  When,  therefore,  I  meet  at  ball,  rout  and  soirde,  opera, 
concert,  and  theatre,  night  after  night,  &  butterfly,  who  cannot 
live  in  private,  mad  for  this  kind  of  excitement  as  the  opium- 
eater  is  for  his  drug,  I  write  her  down  in  my  tableta  as  one 
who  has  an  empty  or  a  disappointed  heart.  There  is  another 
class,  to  whom  pleasure's  draught  would  be  stale,  insipid — 
women  with  more  head  than  these,  and  oftentimes  greater  capa- 
city of  feeling.  Over  their  crucified  affections  they  erect  splen- 
did temples  to  Intellect.  They  too,  drink  to  intoxication,  but  ii 
libations  to  Fame.  To  you  alo'ne  can  I  ever  speak  ray  real  sen 
timents  with  regard  to  my  unhappy  sister." 


M  0  8  8-  8  I  D  E.  119 

His  inouth  quivered  as  I  had  noticed  it  when  he  broached  the 
subject,  but  lie  mastered  the  weakness. 

"  She  has  a  study-boudoir,  the  interior  of  which  her  husband 
hardly  ever  sees.  Sometimes,  she  receives  me  there,  and  occa- 
tioually  I  encounter  a  German  professor  or  a  Spanish  master.  1 
am  more  apt  to  find  ladies  of  an  uncertain  age,  with  near-sighted 
spectacles  and  very  glib  tongues.  One  or  two  of  these  bear 
names  not  unknown  to  the  public  ;  each  of  the  others  is  '  dis- 
tinguished' for  something,  or  she  would  not  be  thus  closeted. 
The  bookcases  are  stocked  with  French,  Latin  and  German 
classics  ;  Go'the,  Kant  and  Fichte  are  oftenest  upon  the  taole 
in  juxtaposition  with  English  books,  as  mystical  to  the  plain 
sense  of  ordinary  readers." 

"  I  see  no  heinous  sin  in  this,"  I  said.  "  Louise  was  a  fine  lin- 
guist, an  indefatigable  and  enthusiastic  student  of  many  abstruse 
branches  when  at  school.  Few  women  have  the  taste  and  intef 
lect  to  follow  these  pursuits  as  eagerly  and  successfully.  It  is 
very  natural  that  she  should  resort  to  this  source  of  happiness, 
situated  as  she  is." 

"  Most  natural  1  Your  remark  conveys,  by  implication,  the 
substance  of  what  I  said  awhile  ago.  I  had  rather  she  selected 
this  species  of  dissipation  than  the  other,  but  the  extreme  of 
either  is  incompatible  with  the  discharge  of  more  sacred  duties. 
It  is  of  no  importance  to  me,  at  present,  to  recall  the  circum- 
stances that  combined  to  make  Louise  the  wife  of  David  Wil- 
son ;  it  weighs  nothing  in  the  argument  that  he  is  her  inferior 
intellectually.  Obligations  voluntarily  assumed,  vows  in  the 
name  of  Heaven,  are  not  to  be  put  aside  by  these  considerations 
As  she  would  be  bound  to  study  with  and  for  him,  if  his  reques' 
or  need  demanded  it,  she  ought,  likewise,  now  and  then,  to 
take  from  Messrs.  Kant,  Fichte,  and  Co.,  one  hour  of  the  many 
they  absorb,  and  contribute  something  to  the  happiness  of  the 
husband,  whose  worship  is  faithful  and  hopeless  of  reward.  Do 


120  M088-8IDK. 

not  try  to  persuade  me  that  mine  is  a  heterodox  creed  tc 
yon.  1  know  better.  So  much,"  he  continued  in  a  lighter 
tone,  "  for  grave  dissertations  and  unpleasant  subjects.  For- 
give me  for  intruding  them  upon  you  to-day.  This  is  lovely 
weather — balmy  as  June — I  am  restless  in-doors.  Will  yon 
walk  ?" 

Frederic  and  May  were  ripe  for  the  proposal,  and  we  spent 
much  of  the  forenoon  in  the  outer  air.  It  was  more  than 
moderately  warm,  and  in  the  fields,  the  scent  of  the  withered 
grass  :  in  the  woods,  the  waving  pine-boughs,  and  the  hickory 
and  oak  bark,  were  as  grateful  perfume  as  the  breath  of  early 
eprine.  On  one  sunny  hill-side  we  sat  a  long  while.  A  huge 
log,  stripped  of  its  covering,  and  bleached  by  months  of  expo- 
sure, lay  just  upon  the  outskirts  of  the  forest.  An  arable  field 
sloped  down  from  this  to  a  creek,  and  beyond  arose  another  hill. 
To  our  right  were  visible  the  roof  and  chimney  of  Mrs.  Bell's 
cottage  ;  to  the  left,  a  mile  distant,  we  could  discern  upon  higher 
ground,  the  village  of  cabins  and  out-houses  surrounding  the  more 
pretentious  mansion  of  Mr.  Townley.  The  blue  smoke  curled 
directly  skyward,  from  horizon  to  zenith,  not  a  cloud  shut  out 
one  of  the  sunbeams  the  earth  took  in  with  hushed  rapture. 
There  were  green  mosses  beneath  our  feet,  and  other  patches  of 
livelier  emerald  upon  the  banks  of  the  stream,  whose  dreamy 
song  was  musically  audible  in  the  stillness.  Our  voices  fell  to 
the  same  undertone,  for  we  were  too  joyous  to  refrain  speech. 
We  talked  in  quartette  at  first,  then,  as  of  old,  we  paired  off ; 
Frederic  and  May  strolling  down  to  the  edge  of  the  brook, 
where  we  watched  them  stop  to  gather  pebbles  and  lichens  or 
listen  to  the  murmur  of  the  water,  and  after  a  time,  cross  the 
foot-bridge  and  wave  their  hands  to  us  from  the  opposite  hill. 
Herbert  and  I  exchanged  smiles  full  of  pleasant  meaning  ;  but 
neither  spoke  aloud  the  affectionate  hope  that  bound  thea« 
two,  so  worthy  of  each  other,  in  a  life-long  tie. 


M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  R  . 

The  sun  was  below  the  meridian  when  they  rejoined  us,  yet 
they  seemed  to  have  been  gone  a  very  few  minutes. 

"  I  regret  that  I  am  the  bearer  of  unwelcome  news."  said 
Frederic.  "  Did  you  not  hear  the  dinner  horn  ?" 

*'  We  did  not,"  Herbert  answered. 

"  It  has  sounded,  nevertheless,  and  travelled  over  you  to  get 
to  us,"  and  about  Frederic's  mouth  there  were  symptoms  of  an 
expression  akin  to  that  with  which  his  friend  had  regarded  his 
progress  across  the  brook.  "  It  was  the'  warning  signal,  how- 
ever," he  added,  "  which  is  blown  half  an  hour  before  meals 
are  ready.  We  shall  not  be  too  late  if  we  return  at  once." 

A  bridle  path  led  through  the  woods  to  the  house,  and  mid- 
way in  our  walk  wt  found  Uncle  Zack,  seated  upon  a  stump,  a 
gun  laid  on  his  knees,  and  several  hares,  his  morning  trophies, 
upon  the  ground  at  his  side,  watched  by  the  Newfoundland, 
Sultan.  The  old  man  had  removed  his  hat,  overcome  by  the  heat 
of  the  day  and  his  exercise.  His  pepper-and-salt  wool  was 
combed  into  a  peak  above  the  organ  of  reverence,  heightening 
the  same  into  an  outrageous  contradiction  of  the  spirit  expressed 
by  every  line  of  his  visage  as  we  neared  him.  Contemptuous 
displeasure  and  dignified  disgust  were  depicted  there,  and  his 
voice  bespoke  as  much.  The  exciting  cause  of  his  righteous 
wrath  was  a  personage  of  his  own  color  and  about  his  age,  who 
bestrode '  a  ragged  pony.  The  rider  was  comfortably  and  de- 
cently apparelled,  yet  his  aspect  was  not  so  thoroughly  respecta- 
ble as  that  of  our  old  friend.  So  vehement  and  engrossing  was 
the  altercation  between  them  that  neither  saw  us  until  Frederic 
interrupted  them. 

41  How  now,  Jerry  ?  what  are  you  quarrelling  with  Uncle  Zack 
•bout ?" 

Jerry's  salute  was  sulky  and  devoid  of  the  respectful  alacrity 
with  which  his  opponent  jumped  up  from  the  stump,  and  tngged 
at  the  grey  mountain  aforesaid. 


M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  K  . 

"  I  was  remindia  him  of  a  small  pint  of  law,  Mr.  Leigh  • 
feposin'  he  hadn't  never  heerd  on  it,"  replied  the  individual 
addressed. 

"  And  /  telled  him,  beggin'  your  pardon,  Mars'  Frederic,  dat 
]  been  live  in  dis  world  and  dis  neighborhood  mighty  nigh  ai 
cng  as  he  is,  and  aint  never  been  accuse'  of  anything  onlawfal 
'till  dis  blessed  day,"  said  Uncle  Zack,  with  rekindled  indigna- 
tion ;  "  dat  my  mistis  is  a  born  lady,  one  of  the  ftis'  and  wealthy 
families,  and  is  'sponsible  for  my  'havior  and  conduct,  I  doea 
nothin'  unbeknown  to  her,  and  does  it  stau'  to  reason  dat  she 
would  'low  or  permit  me  to  act  oppose'  to  a  court  of  justice  ?" 
argued  the  old  fellow,  growing  pedantic  to  display  his  knowledge 
of  law  and  equity. 

"What  is  the  'small  point'  over  which  he  has  been  trip 
oing  ?"  inquired  my  brother  of  the  accuser. 

"  That  statue,  sir,"  answered  Jerry,  not  to  be  outdone  in  eru- 
ption, "  which  forbids  negro  slaves  to  carry  fire-arms." 

" I'se  no  ' slave/"  cried  Uncle  Zack,  irefully.  "  I'se  a  respect- 
nble  servant,  and  dat's  ten  million  times  better  dan  to  be  * 
trifling,  no-account  free  nigger  !" 

"  Fie  1  fie  1  I  am  astonished  at  you,  Uncle  Zack,"  said 
Frederic.  "  Don't  you  see  the  ladies  ?" 

"  Ax  thar  pardon  and  yourn,  too,  sir,"  apologized  Uncle  Zack, 
humbly.  "  But  'tis  aggravating  Mars'  F'ederic,  to  hear  trash  like 
dat  call  me,  a  'dustrious,  regular  colored  pusson,  'slave'  and 
'  nigger  !'  I  leave  it  to  you  now,  sir,  if  'taint  I" 

"  It  is  right  hard  to  bear,  I  know,  Uncle  Zack.  As  for  you, 
Jerry  Williams,"  continued  Frederic,  "  please  remember  in  future 
that  this  man  is  under  my  father's  protection,  that  he  upholdi 
irn  in  all  that  he  does." 

"Now  you're  a-gittiu'  it!"  ihucklel  Uncle  Zack,  aside. 
11  Aint  he,  Sultan,  old  boy  ?" 

The  dog  wagged  his  tail,  his  quick  eye  rivetted  upon  the  fire* 
,  with  no  amicable  intent. 


MOSS-BIDE. 

"Besides,"  said  Frederic,  '  nobody  wants  you  to  lay  down 
the  law  upon  this  or  any  other  '  point,'  unless  your  property  ia 
injured  These  woods  are  my  father's  ;  Mr.  Peyton  gave  Mrs. 
Bell  that  gun  expressly  for  Zack's  use.  They  are  as  strong  law- 
overs  as  yourself." 

Jerry  jerked  up  his  pony's  nose  from  the  ground,  where  it 
unted  among  the  leaves  for  some  bits  of  herbage  that  might 
ke  out  his  scanty  breakfast. 

"  It's  none  of  my  business,  to  be  sure,  Mr.  Leigh  " 

"  I  tolled  him  so  at  de  fust — didn't  we,  Sultan  ?"  again  crowed 
Uncle  Zack. 

"  But  Mr.  Townley,  sir,  is  a  lawyer,  and  he  spoke  with  me  'pou 
dis  ideutickle  subject  not  a  week  ago." 

"  There  !  enough  !"  Frederic  waved  his  hand.  "  Pay  Mr. 
Townley  to  get  you  of  your  own  scrapes,  and  don't  meddle,  either 
of  you,  with  honest  people." 

The  pony  moved  off  at  a  shambling  gait,  and  Uncle  Zack 
returned  his  thanks  to  his  champion. 

"  It  don't  look  well — 'taint  right,  in  fac',  for  a  churca  memoer 
to  fight,  or  he  an'  I  would  a'  had  a  tussle  'fore  we  got  through, 
I'm  afeer'd,  sir.  Poor  white  folks  and  free  negroes  is  mon- 
strously alike,  to  my  thinkin',  Mars'  F'ederic." 

"  How  happens  it  that  you  are  out  gunning  to-day  ?"  asked 
my  brother  ;  "I  expected  you  were  keeping  Christmas  in  gen- 
tlemanly style." 

"  So  I  did,  sir — for  two  solid  hours  dis  moruin' — but  bless  you, 
Mars'  F'ederic,  don'  you  know  old  Zack  warnt  born  for  to  play? 
loo  hard  work  for  dis  nigger — plav  is  1  So,  Molly,  she  took  to 
Ironin'  'pon  de  sly,  for  fear  mistris  or  Miss  Annie'd  stop  her ; 
auil  I  sot  out  to  lay  in  a  stock  of  skins.  Dis  weather's  mighty 
desateful.  We'se  got  to  pay  for  it,  and  pay  well  too,  if  you 
mind  my  racket." 

"  What  do  you  make  of  these  furs  T'  questioned  Herbert. 

"Gloves,  my  m:ii>ter,  :u»l  obt-rshocs  and  tipples — or  whatever 


124  MOSR-BIDK. 

de  ladies  calls  dem  things  what  dey  wraps  up  dey  ihroatft  irid 
in  winter." 

"But  you  do  not  do  all  this  yourself?  You  are  a  genius, 
Uncle  Zack." 

"  Yaw  1  yaw  !  young  marster,  you've  come  right  nigh  de 
truth,  if  you  mean  a  Jack  at  all  trades  and  marster  of  none — 
dat's  me  !  aint  it,  Sultan  ?  My  ole  woman,  she  helps  me  'bout 
de  nice  sewin',  'specially  de  ladies'  shoes." 

"  I  should  like  to  have  a  pair  of  your  manufacture,"  said  May 
"  How  much  time  do  you  need  to  finish  them  ?" 

"  I  ken  make  a  par  in  two  days,  if  I  aint  too  much  else  to  do 
Bein'  as  'tis  holiday,  I  ken  let  you  have  yourn  done  by  Saturday 
arternoon." 

41  That  will  do.  Will  you  come  to  Mr.  Leigh's  for  my  mea- 
sure ?  I  am  staying  there." 

Instead  of  replying  verbally,  Uncle  Zack  fumbled  in  his 
pocket  for  a  slip  of  paper  and  a  clasp-knife. 

"  Jest  set  your  foot  down  upon  dat,  if  you  please,  ma'am. 
Bein'  as  how  dey's  obershoes,  I  must  measure  your  shoe  outside, 
you  onderstand.  Whew  !"  he  whistled,  involuntarily,  as  he  held 
up  the  short  strip.  "Dat's  de  leetlest— ;'«*  a  leetle  of  de 
leetlest  foot  I  ever  see  yet.  You  warn't  'tended  to  walk,  my 
young  mistis.  You  ought  to  a'  had  wings." 

Laughing  at  this  compliment,  we  said  "  good-bye." 

"  It  is  very  singular  that  your  servants  should  conceive  so 
rooted  a  dislike  to  their  free  brethren,"  said  Herbert  to  Frederic 
"  Is  it  universal  ?" 

"  I  believe  it  is.  They  cordially  despise  them  as  a  class,  rank 
them  as  an  inferior  caste,  with  whom  intimacy  is  disreputable, 
and  intermarriage  but  one  remove  from  disgrace.  The  free 
blacks  are,  as  a  whole,  the  most  worthless  part  of  our  popular 
tion  ;  the  7ery  refuse  of  the  lower  orders.  There  are  somi 
shining  exceptions,  however,  I  am  happy  to  say.' 

"What  is  the  character  of  this  Jerry  Williams?"    inter 


MOSS-BIDE.  125 

legated  Herbert.  "  His  demeanor  does  not  indicate  any  sense 
of  his  inferiority." 

"No,  indeed  1  yet  he  is  morally  not  much  better  than  tht 
generality  of  them.  He  is  a  wily  fellow,  and  manages  to  pro- 
erve  a  sort  of  respectable  standing.  He  is  a  rare  instance  o-f 
udustry  and  frugality  among  his  set,  and  owns  property  suffi 
cient  for  his  support.  From  a  meagre  beginning  he  has  worked 
and.  saved  until  he  has  accumulated  funds  to  purchase  a  house, 
several  acres  of  ground,  and  a  couple  of  servants  to  aid  him  iu 
cultivating  it. 

"  You  do  not  mean  that  he  holds  them  as  slaves  !"  exclaimed 
Herbert. 

"  Why  not  ?"  said  his  friend,  mischievously.  "  Do  not  delude 
yourself  with  the  idea  that  the  oppressed  race  you  hear  prayed 
for  every  Sabbath  and  harangued  about  in  your  political  meet- 
ings, would  not,  if  they  had  the  chance,  wield  the  oppressor's 
rod  over  their  brethren  in  blood  and  name  more  fiercely  than  the 
reriest  brute  of  a  white  overseer  dares  to  do  now.  Take  Jerry  as 
an  example.  No  other  hands  in  the  country  are  worked  so 
cruelly,  no  other  owner  domineers  with  like  needless  severity,  for 
he  delights  to  show  his  power  ;  likes  the  office  and  title  of  mas- 
ter. So  egregiously  vain  is  he  of  the  latter,  that  he  will  actually 
hide  himself  in  the  bushes  when  he  sees  his  servants  coming,  in 
search  of  him,  upon  which,  whether  they  know  his  place  of  con- 
cealment or  not,  they  are  instructed  to  shout  for  '  Master,'  until 
his  ears  cease  to  be  titillated  with  the  term." 

"  You  are  jesting  upon  my  credulity,"  laughed  Herbert. 

"  I  appeal  to  Grace  to  verify  my  statement,"  returned  Fred- 
eric, "  and  for  confirmation  of  another  anecdote  of  the  same  per- 
son. Jerry's  cunning  does  not  always  parry  the  consequence! 
of  his  officious  impertinence.  A  white  man — by  the  way,  one  of 
the  kind  classified  with  free  negroes  by  Uncle  Zack — who  reside! 
apou  the  farm  adjoining  Jerry's,  had  a  quarrel  with  him,  in  whicfc 


126  M  O  8  8  -  S  I  D  E  . 

the  negro  had  undeniably  the  right  side.  He  would  have  beei 
supported  by  the  community  but  for  his  swaggering  and 
uncalled-for  publication  of  the  case.  Saunders — the  neighbor 
heard  of  this  behavior,  and  being  as  great  a  bully  himself,  vowca 
to  thrash  him  within  an  inch  of  his  life.  Taking  two  of  hia 
friends  along  to  witness  the  doughty  deed,  he  went  over  to  Jer 
<7's,  end  finding  him  in  the  field,  introduced  his  errand  in  the 
bearing  of  his  companions.  Jerry  was  frightened  out  of  his  wits, 
rw  a  matter  of  course,  very  penitent,  very  mean-spirited — and 
when  he  had  begged  himself  out  of  breath  to  no  purpose, 
whined  that  '  if  Mr.  Saunders  would  just  respect  his  feelins'  so 
far  as  to  take  him  out  of  sight  to  whip  him,'  he  would  submit 
without  further  ado.  The  bully  rampant  was  magnanimous  ; 
collared  the  bully  couchant,  and  led  him  into  a  wooded  hollow 
where  hickories  grew  plentifully.  He  cut  a  stout  one,  trimmed 
it  for  use — when,  presto  1  the  actors  changed  characters.  Jerry 
is  athletic  and  his  moment  had  come.  Throwing  Saunders 
down,  he  set  his  foot  upon  him,  and  proceeded  coolly  to  admin- 
ister a  rousing  castigatiou,  yelling  at  each  blow,  in  the  most 
piteous  accents — '  Mercy,  Mr.  Sannders  !'  '  Oh,  pray,  sir  P  etc., 
that  the  unseen  and  unseeing  friends  of  the  prostrate  man  might 
not  be  defrauded  of  their  promised  treat.  Saunders'  groans,  if 
he  uttered  any,  were  thus  drowned  ;  to  call  for  assistance  would 
be  too  humiliating  ;  so  he  bore  it  then,  and  kept  his  secret  after- 
wards to  his  cost,  for  Jerry  brought  an  action  for  assault  and 
battery.  Our  neighbor,  Mr.  Townley,  was  his  confidential  advis- 
er. He  proved  by  Saunders'  two  associates  all  that  was  needed. 
Suspicions,  if  they  suspected  the  truth,  were  not  admissible  evi 
dence.  They  testified  to  the  intent  to  attack,  and  the  corrobor 
ating  fact  of  the  withdrawal  of  the  parties  into  the  thicket,  final 
ly  the  cries  that  came  from  it,  and  the  verdict  was  instantly 
rendered.  Saunders  was  both  whipped  and  non-suited,  nor  did 
he  escape  the  '  world's  dread  laugh '  he  endured  so  much  to 


M  O  S  8-8  I  D  K  .  127 

(m»id      Mr.  Townb;  told  the  story.     It  ran  like  wild-fire,  and 
Jerry  was  triumphant."  * 

"  Just  as  it  should  be  !"  cried  my  father  coming  out  to  nice4, 
as.  "Rosy  cheeks  and  bright  eyes,  and  I  trust  keen  appetites, 
for  dinner  is  smoking  on  the  table.  This  weather  is  superb  ) 
Did  I  not  prophecy  to  you,  Miss  Grace,  that  we  should  have 
May  in  December  ?  And  here  is  a  frolic  on  hand  for  to-night. 
Mr.  Townley  called  while  you  were  out,  with  invitations  for  al! 
of  you — Miss  Seaton  and  Mr.  Wynne  especially  mentioned — to 
an  extempore  party  at  his  house." 

We  were  ready  to  embrace  any  plan  that  promised  fun,  and 
resolved  unanimously  to  attend.  The  only  obstacle  to  overcome 
was  a  scruple  of  May's.  She  felt  some  hesitation  at  going 
among  utter  strangers. 

"  I  wish  one  of  the  ladies  had  called  with  her  brother,"  she 
said. 

"  All  three  would  have  been  here  to  breakfast  if  they  had 
suspected  the  existence  of  the  point  of  etiquette  that  troubles 
you,"  said  Frederic.  "  Unless  you  wish  to  give  grievous  offence 
to  our  plain  country  neighbors,  you  must  not  insist  upon  a  prin- 
ciple they  cannot  appreciate." 

This  settled  the  question. 

Mr.  Peyton  had,  ever  since  the  death  of  his  wife,  partaken  of 
our  Christmas  dinner,  and  his  arrival  had  preceded  ours.  It 
was  a  never-ceasing  surprise  to  me  that  he  made  his  way  so  soon 
into  the  good  graces  of  new  acquaintances.  He  was  not  a  fluent 
talker  ;  was  often  abstracted  and  abrupt,  and  in  general  conver- 
sation, bore  an  indifferent  part.  Yet  Herbert,  who  sat  between 
him  and  myself,  fell  under  the  spell  of  his  unspoken  goodnesa 
and  unostentatious  intelligence  ;  was  respectful,  then  attend  if  ^ 
aud  at  length,  conversed  with  him  almost  exclusively 


128  MOSS-SIDE. 

"  Tell  me  something  about  your  friend,"  he  said,  after  diiiuef 
"  He  has  a  history — has  he  not  ?" 

My  brief  sketch  did  not  disappoint  him. 

"Hare  you  remarked,''  said  he,  "or  has  i.ot  your  experi 
nee  of  Life  been  sufficient  to  teach  you  that  the  perfecting 
touch  to  human  character,  the  purest  type  of  disinterested uesi 
is  accomplished  by  fire  ?" 

"  Oh  1  do  not  say  so  I"  I  exclaimed,  the  coincidence  of  thin 
with  my  aunt's  prediction  concerning  me  flashing  upon  my  mind. 
"  I  dread  suffering.  I  have  never  known  it,  and  I  am  cowardly. 
I  am  happy  in  my  ignorance  of  evil,  Mr.  Wynne,  and  a  super- 
stitious alarm  seizes  me  when  I  listen  to  these  prognostications." 

"  I  prognosticate  nothing  for  you  ;  see  no  reason  why  Life 
should  not  continue  as  fair  as  this  day  for  you  through  years  to 
come.  I  hope  the  noon  of  happiness  has  not  yet  brightened 
upon  you.  You  court  sorrow  by  indulging  forebodings." 

I  was  not  so  easily  quieted.  The  causeless  fear  ;  formlest 
black  presence,  shadowed  my  soul  with  its  wings,  and  ever,  as 
it  swooped  nearer,  I  heard  the  stern  tones — "  In  Judgment  1" 

In  compliance  with  my  father's  wishes,  May  and  I  sought  our 
room  for  a  siesta  to  prepare  ourselves  for  the  fatigue  of  the 
evening.  She — happy  child  !  weary  with  the  day's  pleasures, 
slept  so  soon  as  she  nestled  among  the  pillows  ;  but  I  was  wake- 
ful under  the  indefinable  oppression  of  what  I  dared  not  call 
presentiment.  I  was  lonely  by  and  by  ;  and  to  escape  from 
myself,  I  arose,  adjusted  my  dress  and  ran  down  stairs,  intending 
to  stroll  in  the  garden  while  the  twilight  lasted.  A  tall  figurt 
darkened  one  window  of  the  parlor.  It  moved  as  I  was  passing 
the  open  door. 

"  Come  in  !"  it  said,  and  I  obeyed. 

"  Did  the  intensity  of  my  wish  bring  you  down,  I  wonder?" 
iaid  Herbert  "  You  felt  no  powerful  mesmeric  attraction  pa> 
ling  you  to  th:s  quarter,  I  suppose  ?" 


MOSS-BIDE.  129 

"  None  ;  unless  it  visited  me  in  the  form  of  a  fit  of  the 
rapors." 

"  I  thought  you  lived  above  the  reach  of  such  maladies.  It 
Is  a  fashionable  complaint  whose  contagion  I  hoped  you  had 
escaped." 

lie  spoke  dissatisfiedly,  and  I  was  ashamed  of  the  slang  I  had 
tsed. 

"  I  have,  perhaps,  mistaken  my  symptoms,"  I  said.  "  Ha  *  ^ 
you  never  felt  a  sudden  downfall  of  spirits,  unaccountable,  im 
possible  to  avert,  almost  as  difficult  to  relieve  ;  a  something 
Mrs.  Hemans  describes  as 

'  the  strange,  inborn  sense  of  coming  ill 

That  ofttimes  whispers  to  the  haunted  breast?' " 

"  Yes,  occasionally,  but  I  refer  it  to  physical  causes,  or  to  the 
natural  reaction  of  the  mind  after  a  season  of  excitement.  If 
this  is  all  that  afflicts  you,  charm  it  away  with  cheerful  thought. 
The  demon  is  not  a  frequent  visitor  at  Moss-side — is  he  W 

"  By  no  means.  My  personal  acquaintance  with  him  is  very 
slight.  If  you  will  not  laugh,  I  will  confess  to  some  apprehen- 
sions that  Mrs.  Hemans  was  right." 

"  That  it  was  a  presentiment  ?  I  do  not  believe  in  such 
things,  although  we  hear  and  read  marvellous  tales  of  their  veri- 
fication. On  the  contrary,  all  that  I  have  felt  and  observed 
leads  me  to  the  opinion  that  the  most  destructive  bolts  of  afflic- 
tion fall  from  a  clear  sky;  that  the  sun  of  joy  is  more  frequently 
Btruck  at  one  shock  from  the  heavens  than  quenched  in  a  g~a- 
dual  decline.  I  have  been  musing  about  you  here  in  tbe 
wilight." 

"  About  me  1"  drawing  in  my  breath  more  quickly. 

"  About  you  and  your  home.  This  lovely  nook  meets  raj 
Ideal  of  rural  serlusion.  It  is  the  Arcadia  I  have  hitherto  seet 
5rat  in  drf.ams." 

6* 


130  MOSS-SIDE. 

"  It  is  a  deal  home  to  me,"  I  said. 

"  Yon  hare  LO  care  here  ;  you  told  me  to-day  that  you  kntw 
nothiug  of  trouble,"  he  pursued.  "  Whoever  transplants  you  tc 
another  soil  «rill  incur  a  heavy  responsibility.  Would  it  be  a 
aelfishact?" 

My  father's  entrance  spared  me  the  necessity  of  a  reply, 
winch  would  hare  been  hard  to  frame.  We  were  pacing  the 
floi'/  my  hand  upon  Herbert's  arm,  and  in  the  wasting  light,  I 
pf.-rctived  my  father's  start  of  surprise  and  inclination  to  retreat. 
Herbert  did  not  gpeak  immediately,  but  when  he  did,  it  was 
without  agitation  or  the  earnestness  with  which  he  had  said  hia 
last  wotJs  to  me. 

"  Our  mend,  Mr.  Peyton,  has  gone,  sir,"  he  remarked.  "  Fred 
eric  and  i  would  have  detained  him  to  supper,  but  he  must 
needs  offet  his  services  to  gallant  a  lady  neighbor  of  yours  to 
the  party  mis  evening." 

"  Annie  Bell,  I  presume,"  replied  my  father. 
"  That  is  the  name.     She  is  a  protege*  or  something  of  the 
sort  of  his,  Frederic  tells  me." 

I  had  slipped  my  hand  from  its  resting  place,  and,  leaving  my 
father  in  the  midst  of  Annie's  story,  I  effected  a  noiseless  retreat. 
I  would  not  dwell  a  second  upon  the  tumultuous  thoughts  that 
ppurred  my  brain  into  a  fever  ;  stayed  not  to  inquire  the  cause 
of  the  glow  that  burned  in  my  cheeks  ;  but  ordering  May's  sup- 
per with  mine  to  our  room,  dived  forthwith  into  the  momentoua 
business  of  our  toilettes.  The  carriage  was  ready  as  soon  as  we 
were.  The  moon  was  near  its  full,  and  our  ride,  as  May  com- 
plained, (  only  too  short." 

Mr.  Townley's  ancestral  abodj  was  a  two-story  brick  building 
got  rather  high  up  on  the  hill,  and  environed  by  what  it  pleased 
Miss  Malvina  to  designate  as  "a  pastoral  grove."  The  host 
opened  the  carriage-door,  and  in  his  creamy  tones,  bade  us  wel 
come,  and  wished  us  a  '  Merry  Christmas." 


M  O  S  S  •  S  I  D  E  .  131 

•'  My  friend,  Mr.  Wynne,  Mr.  Townley,"  introduced  Frederia 
-and  as  May  was  handed  out — "  Miss  Seaton." 

"  We  are  honored  by  their  presence,"  acknowledged  Mr 
fownley,  at  an  angle  of  forty-five  degrees. 

Deftly,  like  the  natty  dandy  he  was,  he  tripped  up  the  stepf 
with  May,  presenting  her  at  the  top  to  "  my  sister,  Miss  Town 
fey." 

Miss  Judy  had  been  wheedled  or  coerced  into  wearing  a  head- 
dress, a  gay,  tinsel  thing,  altered  from  Miss  Malvina's  last  win- 
ter's finery.  Her  black  silk  dress  had  more  .ougitude  and 
amplitude  of  skirt,  and  less  of  body,  than  her  everyday  costume 
She  gave  us  a  loud,  sincere  greeting,  and  showed  us  into  her 
room  to  remove  our  mnfflings 

"  I  am  very  glad  you  came,  Grace,"  said  she,  "  and  you  too, 
Miss  Seaton.  I  am  really  afraid  Malvina  would  have  gone  crazy 
if  you  had  stayed  away.  Directly  she  heard  this  morning  that 
your  friends  were  with  you,  Grace,  nothing  would  do  but  we 
must  have  some  description  of  a  "  fuss,"  and  James  must  ride 
over  and  invite  you  all." 

Now,  considering  Miss  Malvina  had  known  three  days  before 
from  my  own  tongue  that  May  and  Herbert  were  confidently  ex- 
pected on  Christmas  Eve,  I  was  tempted  to  attribute  this  im- 
promptu "  fuss  "  to  another  arrival,  telegraphed  by  the  sable 
couriers  from  one  plantation  to  the  other.  More  company  drew 
off  the  attention  of  the  elder  sister,  and  we  rejoined  our  escorts 
in  the  entry.  Miss  Malvina,  with  complexion  like  a  cabbage- 
rose  ;  her  flaxen  hair  dressed  in  three  tiers  of  curls,  had  strained 
maidenly  bashfulness  to  the  extent  of  meeting  Frederic  upon  the 
threshold  of  the  parlor  door,  and  as  he  made  no  motion  to  enter, 
*he  remained  there.  He  broke  her  toils  with  scant  show  of 
courtesy  when  May  appeared.  She  was  very  lovely  that  night 
Frederic's  eyes  might  have  enlightened  her  as  to  this  fact,  had 
the  buzz  that  ran  through  the  apartment  at  her  entrance  failec 


132  MOSS-BIDE. 

to  do  so  ;  but  she  wa.s  gracefully  unconscious  that  any  look  01 
tone  of  admiration  had  reference  to  her.  A  majority  of  th« 
younger  gentlemen  solicited  introductions,  and  aJl  she  received 
with  frank  ease  and  impartial  cordiality.  Frederic  maintained 
the  post  nearest  to  her  without  obtruding  his  attentions.  H« 
was  undisguisedly  proud  of  the  homage  rendered  her,  manifest/ 
fag  this  feeling  so  plainly  that  I  could  not  forbear  whispering  a 
caution.  For  this  act  of  sisterly  discretion,  I  got  a  saucy  smile 
for  myself,  and  a  snap  of  the  fingers  for  the  crowd. 

There  was  a  crowd,  notwithstanding  the  shortness  of  the 
notice  served  upon  the  guests.  Miss  Judy  had  her  clique  of 
matronly  housewives  and  settled  elderly  geutlerten  ;  Miss  Mai- 
vina  had  asked  mostly  "  girls  about  my  own  agy,"  she  loved  to 
say — which  might,  by  this  data,  have  been  estiratited  at  anything 
from  sixteen  to  twenty-five.  Miss  Susan,  least  social  of  the 
three,  yet  protected  in  one  corner  a  select  few  of  her  chosen 
associates,  most  of  them  as  starched  as  hert^lf.  Mr.  Townley 
had  not  overlooked  a  neighbor  in  his  rounds,  for  well  as  he 
knew  the  value  of  popularity  to  him  now,  his  ambitious  eye 
pierced  the  future  to  the  strife  of  a  not  distant  hustings,  when 
each  one  of  his  male 'acquaintances  who  was  a  free  man  of 
twenty-one  would  be  worth  his  vote.  I  have  slandered  our 
neighborhood,  if  our  present  hosts  are,  to  my  readers,  "  specimen 
articles."  The  Townleys  were  an  old  and  respectable  family, 
and  in  general  society,  upon  a  level  with  many,  immeasurably 
their  superiors  in  breeding  and  education.  There  were  here  col- 
lected  gentlemen  who  would  have  trodden  the  royal  drawing- 
room  with  as  finished  elegance  as  the  most  thorough  courtiei 
here  ;  men,  who  had  reaped  academic  and  political  honors  in  n« 
nean  measure,  and  women,  whose  intelligence  and  reilnemen1 
§tted  them  to  be  their  companions. 

•'  I  had  not  anticipated  so  pleasant  a  gathering,"  said  Herbert 
to  me  "  I  am  in  love  with  country  life.  If  the  lady  who  hai 


MOSS-SIDE.  183 

stolen  the  past  half  hour  from  me  is  a  rustic,  I  award  the  palm 
to  rusticity  over  city  polish.  What  a  charming,  modest,  sensi- 
ble little  creature  she  is  !  I  did  not  catch  her  name  as  Mr.  Pey 
ton  presented  me  to  her.  I  suppose  you  know  her  ?" 

"  You  cannot  say  too  much  in  her  praise,"  I  said.  "  It  is  An 
fcie  Bell." 

"  I  remember  " — he  began. 

Miss  Malvina  had  overheard  the  name  and  interrupted  him. 
"  You  see,  Grace,  we  could  not  get  over  inviting  her.  She  lives 
so  near,  and  is,  besides,  a  favorite  with  sister  Judy.  You  must 
think  our  society  sadly  mixed,  Mr.  Wynne." 

"  It  is  a  most  agreeable  compound,  Miss  Townley — better  than 
any  one  simple  element." 

"  Does  he  guess  how  very  simple  is  that  he  is  now  dealing 
with  ?"  I  said  to  myself. 

Miss  Malvina  fluttered  her  fan  and  cast  down  her  pink  eyelids. 

"  You  are  very  polite  to  say  so,  I  am  sure.  But  we  vrere 
talking  of  this  Miss  Bell.  I  am  ashamed  to  tell  you,  Mr.  Wynne 
— we  are  shockingly  democratic  here — she  is  nothing  but  a 
seamstress." 

"  That  is  all  you  can  say  against  her — thank  Heaven  1"  said 
Mr.  Peyton,  over  her  shoulder. 

She  gave  her  customary  scream.  "  Mercy  !  cousin  R  >bert  ! 
I  did  not  dream  you  were  within  a  hundred  miles  of  us.  I  have 
said  no  harm,  however.  Annie  is  a  nice  girl — I  love  her  dually 
—and  Mrs.  Bell  is  a  sweet  old  lady." 

"  Cousin  Robert "  was  not  to  be  conciliated,  for  he  me  fed  on 
with  a  grave  bow.  Nor  had  I  patience  to  listen  longer  Pro- 
Toked  at  her  exposure  of  her  own  silliness,  and  the  ill-nature  I 
knew  to  be  second-hand  from  Miss  Susan,  I  made  some  excuse 
to  change  my  place,  but  she  caught  me  by  the  arm. 

"  One  word  I"  she  said  aside,  with  a  forced  giggle  "  is  you/ 
brother  addressing  this  Miss  Seaton  ?" 


134  M  O  8  8  -  6  I  D  E  . 

"  Miss  Malvma  1" 

"  Now,  don't  be  angry,  please  !  I — that  is,  we  have  been 
troubled  to  know  whether  it  was  so  or  not.  /  was  positive  froa 
the  beginning  that  there  was  nothing  in  it.  Brother  says  I  am 
•  goose  ;  that  he  is  sure  they  are  lovers  ;  and  when  sister  So 
tan  said  she  must  be  terribly  anxious,  to  come  all  this  way 
to  see  him,  brother  told  her  that  circumstances  altered  cases, 
and  repeated  some  old  thing  about  Mahomet  and  the  moun- 
tain." 

"  A  precious  pair  the  everlasting  sister  and  brother  are  !"  1 
almost  said.  I  had  the  self-control  to  substitute  a  more  tempe- 
rate retort.  "  Mr.  Townley  and  Miss  Susan,  and  you,  Miss  Mul- 
viua,  may  cease  your  speculations.  I  must  have  told  you  before, 
that  Frederic's  vacation  was  a  surprise  to  us  all.  Miss  Scaton 
was  positively  informed  that  he  would  not  be  at  home  this 
Christmas." 

"  You  are  not  offended — are  you  ?"  still  clutching  my  sleeve 
"  Not  with  you  I"  releasing  myself. 
Herbert  eyed  me  quizzically,  as  I  walked  off. 
"  I  would  not  seem  impertinent  ;  but  I  venture  to  affirm  that 
y  ju  have  been  running  a  tilt  for  a  friend — not  defending  yourself. 
May,  Frederic,  Annie  Bell,  or  Mr.  Peyton  has  a  spirited  cham- 
pion.    You  are  spirited — do  you  know  it  ?" 

My  ruffled  plumes  settled  under  his  playful  raillery. 
"  I  know  that  my  temperament  is  rather  sanguine  than  phleg- 
matic," I  rejoined.     "  I  beg  you  will  not  suppose  that  the  rise 
of  heat  just  now  was  caused  by  the  lady  with  whom  I  was  con- 
versing." 

"  I  have  seen  enough  of  her  to  convince  me  that  she  is  incapa 
ble  of  exciting  resentment  except  as  the  mouth-piece  of  other 
wore  designing." 

Ten  minutes'  talk  with  him  never  failed  to  tranquillize  me,  and 
irritating  as  were  the  spiteful  innuendoes  against  my  pure-hearted 


M  O  8  8  -  8  1  D  E  .  136 

May,  as  indelicately  retailed  to  me,  I  cast  off  the  recollection  at 
his  Command.  In  my  soul,  I  experienced  a  secret  pleasure  at 
this  gentle  tyranny,  that  said  even  to  thought,  "  No  further  !" 
and  turned  its  course  at  his  will.  It  never  trammeled  belief ; 
opinion  was  as  free  as  the  wind  ;  its  utterance  encouraged  ;  but 
taste  he  directed,  and  controlled  mood  with  the  power  of  an 
autocrat.  I  have  never  seen  similar  strength  combined  with 
similar  kindness  in  any  man  besides.  True,  I  had  witnessed  the 
exemplification  of  this  hi  trifles  alone  ;  but  they  were  straws 
that  floated  continually  on  the  surface  of  the  tide  that  could 
have  borne  mighty  trees  along  as  easily.  Still,  recognizing  this 
influence  as  I  did,  yielding  to  it  without  a  show  of  resistance,  I 
would  not  seek  out  the  root  of  his  authority  and  my  dependence. 
No  analysis  of  emotions,  no  weighing  of  probabilities,  no  pru- 
dent misgivings  were  concealed  under  the  gaiety  with  which  I 
mingled  in  the  dance  that  kept  feet  and  blood  in  rapid  motion. 
I  laughed  in  real  amusement  as  Mr.  Townley  slyly  observed  to 
my  partner  of  one  set : 

"  It  is  reported  among  our  friends  that  a  certain  gentleman  is 
likely  to  Wynne  Grace  at  Moss-side." 

As  unembarrassed  was  my  rejoinder  to  the  same  partner'i 
comment — "  Mr.  Wynne  is  a  fine-looking  man." 

"  And  as  remarkable  in  character  as  feature,"  I  said. 

The  revel  broke  up  at  two  o'clock  ;  adieux  were  exchanged, 
and  we  drove  off.  May  was  delighted  with  the  novelty  of  the 
festival ;  the  easy  footing  upon  which  everything  had  placed 
itself,  and  yet  the  unbroken  good  breeding  that  pervaded  the 
whole  company.  The  peculiarities  of  the  sisters  had  amused  and 
interested  her — in  short,  she  had  seldom,  if  ever,  enjoyed  a 
merry-making  more. 

"Mr.  Townley  is  a  lawyer — is  he  not  f"  questioned  Hei* 
bert. 

"  Call  him  an  attorney !    said  Frederic.     "  The  words  maj 


136  M088-8IDK. 

be  exactly  synonymous,  according  to  our  manner  of  using  them 
but  to  my  ear  the  latter  suits  him  better;  Why  do  you  inquire  t 
Was  he  professional  in  his  management  of  you  ?" 

"  I  have  never  occupied  a  witness-box,  but  I  have  a  Tivid 
conception  of  the  feelings  incident  to  the  position,"  replied 
Herbert.  "  He  cross-examines  so  dexterously,  shapes  his  queries 
o  ingeniously,  that  it  is  a  positive  pleasure  to  be  pumped  by 
him.  Nor,  judging  from  my  brief  experience,  is  he  prontj  to  let 
slip  opportunities  of  amassing  information,  although  there  may 
be  nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine  cases  out  of  a  thousand  that  it 
will  never  profit  him.  He  reminds  me  of  a  class  of  economista 
who  are  forever  buying  bargains,  things  for  which  they  have  no 
present  use,  simply  because  they  are  cheap,  and  may  serve  them 
Borne  good  purpose  twenty  years  hence." 

"  Why,  how  could  you  learn  this  ?"  I  inquired.  "  He  surely 
was  not  guilty  of  prying  into  the  personal  history  of  a  stranger 
and  his  guest  !  I  am  at  a  loss  to  understand  you." 

"  '  Prying '  is  too  coarse  a  term  for  the  adroitness,  with  which, 
in  a  chat  of  half  an  hour,  he  made  himself  au  fait  to  the  lead- 
ing events  of  my  manhood,  youth  and  infancy  ;  climbed  the 
branches  of  the  genealogical  tree  up  to  the  names  and  residence 
of  my  great-grand-parents,  which  was  as  far  as  I  could  go. 
There  we  exchanged  places,  he  instructing  me  as  to  my  probable 
pedigree  back  to  the  Norman  conquest.  He  is  ready  this 
moment,  I  will  warrant,  to  make  out  an  armorial  ensign  for  me, 
not  a  quartering  omitted  or  slurred  over." 

"  In  the  name  of  all  that  is  impertinent  and  ridiculous,  what 
did  the  fellow  mean  ?"  exclaimed  Frederic. 

"  Not  to  rust  for  want  of  practice,  I  imagine,"  returned  hi* 
frieud,  his  good-humor  invincible.  "I  was  a  bargain,  and  he 
bought  me  up  cheap — as  I  have  intimated,  for  I  was  amused, 
not  worried,  and  let  out  the  line  as  fast  as  he  was  disposed 
to  pull  it.  He  would  sift  even  a  chancery  suit  to  the  bottom,  01 


MOSS-SIDE.  1$1 

prove  it  to  be  what  many  wickedly  declare  it — a  bottomless  den 
of  iniquity.  If  my  cousins-Norman,  as  he  decided  any  con- 
nections I  may  have  over  the  water  to  be,  should  ever  leave  me 
legatee  to  a  fortune  of  fabulous  amount,  I  would  write  forthwith 
to  him  to  supply  whatever  my  memory  had  dropped.  Commend 
Be  tc  a  man  who  understands  his  business  1" 


MOSB-SID& 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THREE  more  days  of  beauty  and  of  joy  ;  of  witching  weathef 
and  unalloyed  delight  in  the  same  ;  the  third  a  Sabbath,  thai 
restrained  our  sporting,  without  marring  our  happiness  ; — and 
there  arose  a  Monday's  sun,  as  glorious  as  its  immediate  prede- 
cessors. We  were  making  the  most  of  the  swift  hours  now, 
for  but  one  day  besides  this  remained  for  our  intercourse.  Our 
separation  was  an  interdicted  topic,  and  at  the  breakfast-table 
we  spoke  not  even  of  the  morrow. 

Mr.  Peyton  had  furnished  Frederic  with  the  means  of  gratifying 
an  ardent  wish,  hitherto  frustrated  by  the  lameness  of  my  horse  ; 
viz.  a  ride  with  May.  Herbert  and  myself,  according  to  this 
plan,  had  no  choice  but  to  be  mutually  agreeable  and  while 
away  the  time  of  their  absence  as  we  could.  My  father  received 
early  that  morning,  a  line  from  Mr.  Townley,  notifying  him  of  an 
examining  court  of  magistrates,  to  be  held  in  the  village  at 
noon,  to  investigate  a  case  of  petty  larceny — a  call  which  he, 
as  a  justice  of  the  peace,  could  not  disregard.  The  lawyer 
came  by  our  house  in  time  to  help  May  mount  Black  Bess,  Mr. 
Peyton's  special  pride.  Frederic  placed  himself  at  her  side  ; 
my  father  added  a  warning  both  were  too  gleeful  to  remember— 
and  they  were  off,  May's  green  habit  and  white  plumes  stream 
ing  back  in  the  air,  parted  by  their  flight. 

"A  fairy-like  vision  !"  said  Mr.  Townley,  with  his  ever- ready 
waile.  "  Steed  and  rider  are  well  matched ." 

Herbert  followed  my  glance  to  the  sleek  sorrel,  Mr.  Town- 
ley's  riding-horse,  and  answered  by  a  look  of  arch  intelligence 


MOSS-SIDE.  139 

We  had  a  laugh  at  our  ease,  when  he  and  my  father  jogged 
down  the  lane  ;  the  very  gait  of  the  animal,  an  ambling  pace, 
his  head  nodding  complacent  wisdom  right  and  left,  being  an 
imitation  of  his  master  too  faithful  for  a  burlesque. 

"  Now,"  raid  Herbert,  "  what  have  you  to  do  between  this 
and  dinner  ?" 

"  Nothing,  except  amuse  or  vex  you." 

"  One — I  do  not  say  which  of  these — you  can  effect  by  equip- 
ping yourself  for  a  walk.  The  house  is  chill  and  damp  after  thia 
dry,  warm  air.  We  will  go,  if  you  please,  to  the  hill  we  \isited 
the  first  day  we  spent  here." 

"  And  whither  we  have  been  every  day  since,"  I  said  ;  "  but 
we  could  not  show  better  taste." 

The  shadows  rf  the  leafless  trees,  fringing  the  hill-top,  lay 
upon  the  earth  in  arabesques  as  motionless  as  if  cast  by  carvings 
of  stone  ;  the  wiud  -spirits  had  rocked  themselves  to  sleep  in  the 
highest  boughs,  and  the  wondrously-beautiful  sunlight  that  had 
lent  a  wierd-iike  charm  to  our  festal  week,  still  bathed  the 
winter  landscape,  like  the  smile  of  heavenly  love  on  the  cheek 
of  age. 

And  there,  beneath  the  blue  sky,  in  the  breathless,  enchanted 
eilence  of  Nature,  Herbert  Wynne  told  me  of  his  love.  How 
the  revelation  was  made,  I  cannot  tell.  A  thousand  vain  efforts 
have  showed  me  that  I  cannot  recall  one  of  the  words  which 
conveyed  to  me  the  most  precious  gift  of  my  life.  I  know  that 
my  tongue  was  spell-bound  ;  that  to  the  wild  current  of  emo- 
tions that  flooded  my  being,  when  his  meaning  burst  upon  me, 
succeeded  a  sense  of  awakening  from  a  ravishing  dream  to  a 
reality  a  million-fold  more  blissful — that  when  he  implored  me 
to  speak,  I  could  only  falter — "  Let  me  think  !"  and  bow  my 
bead  upon  my  lap.  I  did  not  shut  out  the  brightness  in  closing 
my  eyes.  I  had  never  seen  the  full  glory  of  Life  until  now 
My  relishful  summer  pleasures,  my  autumn  reveries,  intangible. 


140  MOSS-SIDE. 

dissolving  news  as  they  were  ;  the  overflowing  jcyousness  of 
the  past  few  days — what  were  they  all  but  faint  premonitions  of 
this  ?  Every  girlish  ideal  of  earthly  happiness,  every  yearning 
fir  aflection  were  here  met  and  more  than  realized.  Wliai 
wonder  that  ray  answering  movement  to  his  entreaties  was  to  lift 
my  streaming  eyes  towards  Heaven,  and  murmur  in  passionate 
gratitude,  "  0,  God  !  I  thank  thee  1 " 

Herbert's  instant  impulse  was  to  uncover  his  head,  and  our 
united  heart-song  of  praise,  voiceless  to  human  hearing  as  the 
slumbering  air,  went  upward  through  the  sunshine. 

When  we  could  talk,  I  heard  of  the  birth  and  growth  of  his 
attachment ;  learned  that  his  intentions  were  matured  ere  he 
decided  to  accompany  May  ;  that  Moss-side  would  have  had  him 
as  a  visitant  had  she  never  thought  of  coming  South. 

I  raised  my  eyes,  but  let  them  fall  again. 

"  You  have  no  right  to  do  that,"  he  said.  "  I  love  my  author- 
ity,  and  your  thoughts  are  now  mine.  I  demand  them." 

"  I  wanted  to  ask  you  why  you  love  me." 

This  was  uttered  in  true  humility.  When  he  would  make  me 
his  equal,  I  comprehended  my  inferiority,  and  trembled  lest  he 
should  be  blind  to  it  until  it  was  too  late  to  retrieve  his  mistake. 

"The  question  I  have  been  listening  for!"  he  said.  "You 
have  never  been  told  that  you  are  attractive  in  person  and  man- 
ner ;  have  no  suspicion  of  your  popularity  in  your  circle  of 
acquaintances  ;  wonder  that  Louise  should  have  clung  to  you 
later  and  more  firmly  than  to  any  other  friend  ;  that  May  should 
love  you  as  a  sister  ? — which,  permit  me  to  remark  parentheti- 
cally, I  hope  she  will  be  some  day.  These  things  are  all  news  to 
ou,  Grace  ?" 

"  Now  you  are  jesting,"  1  said,  "  and  I  was  in  serious,  almoi 
sad  earnest.  I  do  not  rate  myself  among  the  repulsive  or  utter 
ly  unattractive.  I  am  young  and  lively,  therefore  not  destituU 
of  charms,  but  you  know  as  well  as  I  do,  Mr.  Wynne  " 


MO88-8IDK.  141 

"  That  gentleman  has  departed  this  life  to  you  *  interposed 
»ny  auditor,  with  becoming  gravity.  "  If  you  hare  aught  to  say 
to  Herbert,  pray  proceed." 

Bather  disconcerted,  I  continued — "  I  was  about  to  say,  that 
*  hile  I  may  be  on  a  par  with  the  average  of  young  ladies,  I  am 
much  below  the  standard  you  must  have  formed.  I  have  neither 
Louise's  genius  nor  May's  loveliness  of  face  and  disposition.  I  am 
a  country  girl,  untried  by  care,  new  to  the  world,  unformed  in 
manner  and  character" 

"  Excuse  me,  but  you  are  monopolizing  the  conversation  " — 1 
was  again  interrupted.  "I  am  not  speaking  lightly  now,  dear 
Grace,  so  listen  1  That  you  are  a  child  in  world-knowledge,  I 
rejoice  to  think.  It  enhances  the  purity  of  the  gem  I  have  won  ; 
and  1  trust  the  unperverted  instinct  of  your  woman's  nature, 
your  quick  penetration  of  character,  more  than  all,  your  moral 
principle  to  keep  you  still  unspotted,  true  to  yourself  and  to  me. 
So  far  as  your  mind  is  concerned,  I  am  better  informed  than  you 
are,  and  I  might  say  the  like  of  certain  traits  that  time  and 
occasion  will  develop.  You  have  not  sounded  the  depth  of  your 
own  heart  ;  dream  little  of  its  powers  of  endurance  ;  its  rockfi 
of  resolution  and  hidden  fires  of  passion.  Passive  as  this  hand 
now  rests  in  mine,  you  have  latent  strength,  that  if  aroused, 
would  change  it  to  unbending  steel,  and  deny  it  to  my  touch,  if 
the  heart  above  which  you  sternly  folded  it  were  beating  its  last. 
You  would  not  bear  sorrow  patiently,  Grace — I  feel  this.  You 
would  return  buffet  for  buffet ;  wrestle  with  the  storm  that 
would  bear  you  to  the  dust.  But  that  you  are  '  untried  by 
care '  is  not  the  dissuasive  you  suppose,  any  more  than  is  the 
conviction  that  it  will  find  you  rebellious,  when  it  does  visit  you 
--for  oh,  my  darling  '.  we  will  meet  Fortune's  shocks— all  Life'f 
woes  together  You  can,  you  will  bear  anything  for  my  sake, 
and  a  strong  arm  and  brave  heart,  nerved  by  the  thought  of 
your  love,  will  break  the  violence  of  every  blow  aimed  at  you, 
or  be  crushed  in  the  attemot " 


142  M  O  8  8-8  I  D  K. 

•'  Mast  we  look  fir  clouds  to-day  ?"  I  said.  "Who  told  m« 
only  last  week  that  we  courted  sorrow  by  forebodings  ?" 

"  We  will  no  more  of  them  !"  he  responded.  "  And  one  most 
have  keen  sight  indeed  to  espy  blemishes  in  our  heaven.  We 
will  accept  the  gracious  omen  of  our  betrothal-day  I'' 

As  the  flush  of  excitement  burned  more  steadily,  we  accus- 
tomed ourselves  to  think  of  matter-of-fact  miautise  I  shrank 
slightly  at  the  beginning,  but  he  demolished  the  barrier  by 
reminding  me  of  the  brief  space  intervening  before  our  separa- 
tion, an  allusion  that  drew  me  at  once  more  nearly  to  him. 

"  Your  father  1"  he  said,  at  length,  "  I  shall  speak  to  him  of 
this  before  I  leave.  Frederic,  the  dear  fellow  1  shall  not  sleep 
to-night  until  he  hears  it  all.  Is  it  your  wish  that  any  other  of 
your  friends  be  apprised  of  it  at  present  ?" 

"  By  no  means.  I  should  be  painfully  embarrassed  were  any 
formal  communication  made.  If  it  were  proper,  I  could 
desire  " — I  stopped. 

"  To  break  the  intelligence  to  your  father  yourself,  you  would 
say." 

"  How  did  you  discover  that  ?"  I  asked. 

"  No  matter.  That  was  your  meaning,  and  you  shall  do  as 
you  like  in  this.  But,  Grace,  it  will  carry  a  pang  to  his  bosom. 
You  are  his  chief  treasure  ;  will  he  resign  you  to  the  care  of  the 
acquaintance  of  weeks  ?  I  could  not  blame  him  if  he  refused  to 
sanction  my  suit — and  what  then  ?" 

"  lie  will  not  1  You  wrong  him — indeed  you  do  !"  I  replied 
warmly.  "  He  never  denied  my  most  trivial  petition." 

"  This  is  not  a  trifle,"  he  said. 

"And  therefore  he  will  weigh  the  consequences  of  a  negative 
more  carefully,"  I  urged.  "  Is  this  the  most  formidable  dim 
culty  you  apprehend  ?  To  my  way  of  thinking,  there  is  much 
more  danger  that  your  mother  will  frown  upon  a  mesalliance  witb 
one  who  has  no  preteusious  to  fortune,  style,  or  " 

His  Angers  were  upon  my  lips. 


MOSS-SIDE.  143 

"  I  am  a  man  knd  independent  1"  he  said.  "  I  select  a  wife 
for  myself,  not  for  society  1" 

His  scorn  was  to  me  the  echo  of  Louise's  maledictions  upon 
the  false  system  that  had  laid  her  heart  in  ruins. 

"  Moreover,  Grace,  you  forget  that  Mrs.  Wynne  is  not  my 
Bother.  From  you,  hereafter,  I  can  have  no  concealments.  I 
we  her  respectful  duty,  for  she  did  not  drive  from  her  husbandr* 
oard  aiid  roof  the  orphan  boy  bequeathed  to  him  by  a  dying 
wife — his  early  and  best-beloved.  I  fed,  slept,  played  and  stud- 
ied with  her  children.  My  uncle  would  have  it  so,  and  he 
enforced  his  will  by  measures  so  extraordinary  as  to  tame  hia 
politic  lady  into  a  show  of  acquiescence.  I  love — I  revere  him, 
if  only  for  what  he  has  been  to  me  ;  and  I  have  faith  to  believe 
that,  incrusted  as  his  affections  seem  to  be  with  business  cares 
and  selfish  interests,  there  is  yet  a  place  in  them  for  the  legacy 
that  no  longer  needs  his  guardianship.  Since  Louise's  mar- 
riage I  stand  alone  in  the  world.  I  have  never  had  a  home. 
Grace,  will  you  make  me  one  ?" 

What  appeal  finds  more  ready  entrance  to  a  woman's  heart  ? 
When  we  bent  our  reluctant  steps  towards  Moss-side,  I  had  pro- 
mised to  share  this  home  whenever  he  required  it ;  to  bear  its  ark 
of  treasure  over  land  and  flood,  if  his  footsteps  led  the  way. 

My  father  had  not  returned,  and  we  dined  without  him.  Then 
May  and  I  betook  ourselves  to  the  cozy  upper  chamber,  accord- 
ing to  our  afternoon  custom,  while  Herbert  and  Frederic  smoked 
their  cigars  in  the  porch  or  yard.  May  seated  herself  in  my 
lap.  took  my  face  between  her  hands  and  studied  it  ;  her  eyes 
teaming  with  mischievous  enjoyment.  I  could  not  deny  her  a 
eturuing  smile,  and  finally  both  laughed  aloud  like  madcaps, 
either  of  us  could  say  at  what.  I  could  have  cried  as  heartily 
afterwards,  in  default  of  something  better  to  do,  had  she  not 
frrewn  serious  too 

"  You  need  not  tell  me  anything,  Gracie,  if  you  will  bnt  lei 


144  M  O  8  8-B  I  P  E  . 

me  take  for  granted  what  I  choose.  I  was  advised  of  Herbert^ 
movements  np  to  this  morning,  and  I  judged  from  nis  face  at 
dinner-time  that  he  was  not  heart-broken.  My  own  friend  I 
what  a  prize  you  have  gained  in  his  love  !  I  am  so  happy  foi 
fou  P  and  she  kissed  me  over  and  over  again  with  other,  and 
pet  more  fond  ejaculations 

In  what  warm  colors  she  drew  my — our  future,  in  the  talk  that 
ensued  1  and  I  was  well  satisfied  to  hear  the  praises  she  lavished 
npon  my  betrothed.  Through  the  window  we  could  see  two  tall 
forms  walking  up  and  down  the  path  leading  to  the  summer- 
house,  engaged,  my  beating  heart  said,  in  converse  similar  to 
ours.  Thus  went  by  the  hours  until  the  increasing  darkness 
veiled  her  face  from  my  sight.  Frederic  met  me  at  the  foot  of 
the  stairs,  and  held  me  back  to  put  his  arm  around  me  and 
touch  my  forehead  with  his  lips. 

"  My  sweet  sister  !"  was  all  his  whisper,  but  it  relieved  me  of 
embarrassment  at  his  presence. 

He  had  an  accurate  ear  and  admirable  taste  in  music, 
although  comparatively  ignorant  of  the  rules  of  the  art,  and  he 
obeyed  May  readily  when  she  sent  him  to  the  piano.  The  out- 
line of  her  figure,  the  head  drooped  in  thoughtful  attention,  was 
dimly  visible  to  us  against  the  western  window  ;  the  rich  chords 
that  vibrated  upon  the  twilight  air  were  struck  by  an  unseen 
musician  ;  and  at  the  far  side  of  the  apartment,  Herbert  sat 
beside  me,  as  was  now  his  right,  the  fast  blood  throbbing  in 
the  palms  laid  against  each  other,  reporting  faithfully  each 
heart-beat,  for  our  tongues  had  no  language  for  this  hour.  I 
could  laugh  to  scorn  presentiments  and  goblin  fears  ;  and  my 
«oul,  with  the  presumptuous  confidence  of  youth,  shook  it« 
wings  exultantly  at  the  expansion  of  its  horizon  ;  its  new  anti 
cipations  already  looking  beyond  the  bliss  of  the  present,  and 
laying,  "  To-morrow  shall  be  as  this  day,  and  even  more  abun- 
dant f ' 


M  O  8  8     8  I  D  E  .  145 

Joe  Drought  in  lights,  an  unwelcome  piece  of  official  polite 

0<!S8 

"  Carry  them  out  1"  ordered  Frederic.  "  Nobody  wants 
Ihem." 

"  Supper  is  'most  ready,  sir  ;  and,  Miss  Grace,  marster  done, 
•ome  home.  He  look  mighty  sick  !" 

I  ran  to  his  room  without  delay.  He  lay  on  a  lounge,  his 
eat,  gloves,  and  riding-whip  upon  the  floor,  as  if  he  had  thrown 
them  down  immediately  upon  his  entrance.  His  ashy  paleness 
and  contracted  brow  betokened  great  pain  ;  and  kneeling  beside 
mm,  I  inquired  the  cause  and  symptoms  of  his  illness. 

"  My  head  aches  violently,  my  daughter,"  he  said,  without 
nnclosing  his  eyes. 

He  was  subject  to  intense  suffering  from  this  disorder,  and  his 
answer  rather  soothed  than  disquieted  me.  I  rang  for  a  cup 
of  strong  coffee,  and  a  hot  foot-bath  ;  bathed  his  temples,  and 
ooseued  the  heavy  over-coat  he  had  not  laid  aside.  He  groaned 
from  time  to  time,  and  this  unwonted  expression  of  anguish 
startled  me.  Each  moan  I  answered  by  a  word  of  love  and 
sympathy,  which,  more  unusual  still,  elicited  no  reply.  I  could 
not  bear  the  sight  of  the  closed  eyelids  and  compressed  mouth. 

"  Dearest  father  1"  I  pleaded,  "  can  you  not  speak  to  me — to 
your  little  Grace  ?  Tell  me  how  I  can  help  you.  May  I  send 
for  the  doctor  ?  Is  there  nothing  in  the  house — nothing  that  I 
can  do  to  ease  this  terrible  pain  ?" 

He  looked  up  at  me.  His  eyes  were  sunken,  and  appealed  to 
me  with  an  agony  that  forced  tears  from  mine. 

"  You  cannot  relieve  me,  my  dear.  I  must  bear  it.  Do  no* 
te*.  your  aunt  come  in.  Bolt  the  door  1  I  can  see  no  one  except 
yourself." 

He  was  just  in  time,  for  my  aunt  and  Frederic  met  upon  the 
Threshold  that  minute.  I  stepped  out  to  them  ;  represented 
this  as  one  of  his  most  severe  neuralgic  headaches,  and  advised 
7 


146  M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  K  . 

them  to  leave  him  to  me  who  was  always  lis  nurse  iii  th»s» 
attacks.  I  heard  cautious  steps  go  past  the  door  to  the  supper- 
room  ;  then  their  return,  and  I  could  not  stir  from  my  watch 
Half  an  hour  later,  I  ventured  to  speak  again. 

"  Are  you  no  better,  father  ?" 

The  dry  lips  motioned,  not  said,  "  No  better." 

"  You  would  be  more  comfortable  in  bed  if  you  could  endure 
the  pain  of  moving.  May  I  call  Frederic  to  assist  you  ?  Tho 
poor  fellow  is  very  uneasy,  and  wishes  to  see  you — to  help  me 
take  care  of  you." 

He  paused  a  moment  before  he  replied,  "  Call  him,  then." 

Herbert  came  into  the  dining-room  while  I  was  drinking  my 
tea. 

"  Is  your  father  very  much  indisposed  ?"  he  asked  with  solici 
tude.  "  Can  I  do  anything  for  him  or  for  you  ?" 

"  Thank  you — I  believe  not.  I  )  ope  he  will  fall  asleep  soon. 
He  is  about  to  retire  now." 

"Joe,"  to  the  young  butier,  "  M.sS  Seatou  will  be  obliged  t< 
you  for  a  glass  of  water.  She  is  in  the  parlor.  You  are  pah 
and  dejected,  dearest,"  as  the  boy  departed  on  the  improviseo 
errand.  "  For  my  sake,  do  not  give  way  to  fear.  The  fre 
quency  of  these  attacks  is  a  proof  that  they  are  constitution* 
and  not  dangerous.  One  thing  more — you  must  not  sit  up  alom 
to-night.  If  there  should  be  any  necessity  for  such  a  watch 
Frederic  and  I  will  divide  it.  I  am  jealous  of  any  exaction  upou 
your  health  and  spirits.  Have  you  time  to  look  at  the  stars  one 
im  taut  ?  to  inhale  one  breath  of  fresh  air  ?" 

\Ve  encountered  Joe  in  the  hall,  bringing  back  the  scarceiy- 
tasted  water  ;  and  with  the  precocity  of  his  race,  he  bestowed 
on  me  a  knowing  grimace,  appreciative  and  confidential,  and 
unseen  by  my  attendant.  We  tarried  out-of-doors  but  an 
instaut,  as  Heibert  had  promised,  only  made  one  turn  to  tha 
gate  and  back  ;  yet  I  re-entered  the  sick-chamber  refreshed  io 


MOSS-SIDE.  147 

body  and  iu  mind,  stronger  in  hope  and  desire  to  alleviate  th« 
pains  of  the  beloved  invalid.  Frederic  stood  by  his  pillow, 
trying  to  persuade  him  to  take  the  coffee  I  had  prescribed. 

"  No  !  no  1"  I  heard  him  answer.     "  It  will  do  no  good." 

"  It  has  ne*^r  failed  to  help  you  before,  father  dear,"  I  said, 
playfully.  "  It  LJ  not  like  you  to  discard  a  friend  who  has  given 
jou  co  offence.  Pass  over  the  cup  to  me,  Fred.  He  cannot 
refuse  me." 

Again  that  imploring  look — longer  and  more  fixed  upon  me. 

I  offered  the  cup  to  his  lips,  "  To  please  your  daughter,  fa 
ther  !  Drink  it  because  you  love  her." 

He  swallowed  it  unresistingly.  As  I  stooped  to  kiss  mj 
thanks,  he  enfolded  me  in  an  embrace,  sudden  and  fond — impas 
sioncd  even  in  its  fervor. 

"  I  do  love  you,  darling  !"  he  said.     "  Do  you  believe  me  ?" 

"  Believe  you,  dearest  father  I"  I  replied,  striving  to  preserve  ray 
cheerful  tone  ;  "  I  should  be  very  miserable  if  I  doubted  it  1" 

"  AY  ill  you  believe  it,  forever  ?"  he  persisted,  holding  my  band 
locked  in  his,  and  gazing  wistfully  into  my  eyes. 

"  Forever — so  long  as  I  live  !  Can  you  sleep  now  that  yon 
have  heard  me  declare  this  ?  I  mean  to  turn  Fred"  out  and  stay 
with  you  myself,  until  you  obey  this  part  of  my  prescription  also. 
He  must  look  after  May  and  Mr.  Wynne." 

My  voice  may  have  changed  slightly  at  the  latter  name,  for 
he  started  ;  then  his  brows  were  knitted  in  a  sharper  pang,  and 
he  turned  restlessly  to  the  wall. 

''You  had  better  go,"  I  said  aside  to  Frederic.  "Talking 
disturbs  him." 

"  I  had  rather  be  quite  alone,"  interposed  my  father — "quite 
alone!"  repeating  the  words  incoherently.  "I  must  think — • 
sleep,  I  would  say  !  You  are  good  children.  You  have  done 
all  that  you  can  for  me  ;  but  if  the  room  were  perfectly  still 
and  the  candle  put  out,  it  would  be  better  for  me — and  for  you." 


148  M  O  S  8  -  8  1  D  E  . 

I  touched  bis  hand.  It  was  cold,  not  feverish  He  noticed 
the  movement. 

"  I  am  not  delirious  or  dreaming.  I  wish —  Kiss  me  once 
more,  Grace  !  God  bless  you  !"  and  we  were  obliged  to  go. 

I  listened  without  the  door  several  times  in  the  course  of  the 
evening,  and  found  all  quiet.  At  bed-time,  he  was  apparently 
b  a  profound  slumber,  and  my  dreams  were  all  of  the  forenoon. 

"  The  last  day  !"  said  May,  with  her  awakening  thought ;  "  let 
us  make  it  a  happy  one,  Grace.  To-morrow  grief  will  be  ine- 
vitable." 

My  patient  was  better,  and  smiled  feebly  upon  me  as  he  said 
that  the  pain  in  his  head  was  gone.  I  enjoined  him  not  to  rise 
until  late,  and  was  surprised  at  his  submission  to  a  request  dis- 
regarded upon  many  previous  occasions.  At  eleven  o'clock,  he 
quitted  his  bed  for  the  lounge,  complaining  of  debility  and  drow 
siness.  This  unforeseen  confinement  added  to  my  anxiety  on  his 
account,  perplexity  on  my  own.  I  had  tried  vainly  to  muster 
the  courage  I  had  thought,  the  preceding  day,  would  come  of 
itself  to  enable  me  to  introduce  the  subject  uppermost  in  head 
and  heart ;  and  had  arrived  at  the  determinate  conclusion  that 
Herbert  must  assume  the  whole  conduct  of  the  delicate  busi- 
ness. 

He  was  not  superior  to  the  natural  inclination  to  triumph  over 
me,  when,  after  a  world  of  hesitation  and  falterings,  I  managed 
to  communicate  to  him  my  changed  purpose  ;  could  not  with- 
et%nd  the  temptation  to  boast  a  little  of  the  sagacity  that  had 
foreseen  this  sequel. 

"  And  lest  you  should  be  cast  down  at  the  discovery  of  your 
tpaintheartedness,"  he  said,  "  let  me  tell  you  that  I  love  you  tne 
more  for  the  timidity  which  I  understand,  although  you  do  not 
I  intended,  at  the  last,  to  be  my  spokesman  and  yours  ;  but 
thought  it  no  harm  to  amuse  myself  with  your  shy  approaches  to 
the  awful  denoument " 


MOSS-  SIDE.  149 

"  And  do  you  feel  no  trepidation  ?-"  I  inquired  ;  "  no  trem- 
bling— no  impeded  articulation  ?" 

"  I  !"  drawing  up  his  stately  figure  in  the  conscious  strength 
of  manliness.  "  I  glory  in  the  task  1  and  were  my  nerves  le«* 
firm  ;  if  I  knew  what  it  was  to  dread  the  face  of  mortal  mau, 
the  recollection  of  what  depends  upon  my  action  would  brace  me 
for  the  undertaking.  My  main — my  sole  regret  is  that  this  trial 
— for  it  will  be  a  trial  to  him,  Grace — must,  of  necessity,  fall 
when  your  father  stands  in  need  of  rest.  This,  and  this  alone 
would  tempt  me  to  postpone  it  for  a  day  or  two  ;  but  since  we 
are  compelled  to  go  to-morrow,  I  must  speak  this  afternoon— 
now !  What  frightens  you,  Gracie  ?" 

I  was  trembling  all  over.  "  I  don't  know,"  I  could  hardlf 
say. 

"  Shall  I  guess  ?  You  dread  my  return  to  you  with  a  lugu- 
brious visage  and  general  sheepish  expression,  to  whine  over  the 
lecture — richly  merited,  I  admit — administered  by  your  justly 
incensed  parent  for  my  audacity  in  thus  creeping  into  his  fold, 
and  coaxing  off  the  fairest  of  his  flock.  And  what  right  have  I 
to  do  this  ?"  he  went  on,  musingly.  "  Come  to  me,  darling  1" 

He  stroked  back  the  curls  from  my  face,  and  scrutinized  every 
lineament. 

"  His  youngest — the  only  daughter  left  to  gladden  his  home  j 
the  pride  of  his  eyes;  the  stay  and  comfort  of  his  age.  Oh,  Grace, 
what  atonement  can  I  ever  make  to  him  for  robbing  him  of  you  ? 
Can  the  devotion  of  my  life  recompense  you  for  the  loss  of  such 
a  father  ?  Weeping,  my  dearest  ?  Are  these  tears  for  him  or 
for  yourself,  or  because  you  repent  your  promise  to  me,  and 
grieve  over  my  disappointment  ?" 

I  clung  to  him  in  reply,  and  hid  my  face  in  his  bosom  ;  all 
oy  scruples  forgotten  at  the  mere  imagination  of  losing  him. 

"  I  love  the  touch  of  these  clinging  fingers,"  he  said,  fondly. 
w  They  are  as  frail  to  the  sight,  as  strong  in  their  grasp,  as  ivy- 


MOSS-SIDE. 

tendrils.     Will  they  always  be  satisfied  with  their  present  sup 
port,  I  wonder  ?" 

"Your  wonderment  is  arrant  hypocrisy,"  I  said,  rallying. 
"  I  could  ask  a  more  pertinent  question — will  the  oak  never  (36 
ashamed  of  its  parasite  ?" 

"  ;  ra.-asite  I'  out  upon  the  vile  name  1"  as  if  it  had  stung  him. 
"A  clever  botanist  you  are  !  You  are  no  stunted  moss — an 
eye-sore  upon  the  trunk  ;  nor  mistletoe,  never  seen  until  the 
boughs  are  stripped  of  leaves.  The  ivy  has  its  root  in  the  earth 
that  imparted  life  to  the  forest  giant ;  and  grow  with,  and  twine 
into  the  oak  as  it  will,  it  retains  its  individuality.  I  would  not 
have  your  character  and  personal  identity  merged  into  mine, 
Grace.  I  have  learned  to  love  the  ivy— ivy  let  it  be  to  the  last  1 
My  time  is  up,  dear  one  !  I  must  leave  you." 

"  Your  time  !  leave  me  !"  I  repeated.  "  What  do  you  mean?" 

"oimply,  that,  anticipating  that  your  courage  would  desert 
you  after  the  manner  of  Bob  Acre's,  I  sent  a  message  by  Frederic 
to  your  father,  asking  permission  to  wait  upon  him  at  as  early 
an  hour  as  should  suit  his  convenience.  I  received  for  reply 
that  he  would  see  me  at  four  o'clock.  Your  centenarian  in  the 
hall  there,  croaked  out  the  five  minutes'  signal  awhile  ago.  I 
would  not  fail  in  punctuality  on  this  of  all  occasions.  We  shall 
not  be  closeted  very  long,  I  fancy,  if  what  you  and  your  brother 
have  flattered  me  into  believing,  be  true.  You  are  going  up  to 
May — are  you  not  ?  Leave  your  door  ajar,  and  when  you  hear 
the  first  line  of  '  Sweet  Home '  whistled  in  the  lower  entry, 
come  down.  There  goes  the  crazy  old  sentinel  1" 

A  hasty  caress  ;  one  beam  of  love,  joy,  encouragement  thrown 
back  to  me  from  the  door — and  his  fleet  step  resounded  through 
the  passage  leading  to  my  father's  room. 

May's  packing  was  not  entirely  finished,  and  I  busied  myself 
In  helping  her.  She  was  aware  of  the  negotiation  transpiring 
below  ;  and  while  she,  like  myself,  was  m  no  suspense  as  to  iti 


M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  E  .  151 

termination  she  appreciated  my  tremor  aud  joined  in  my  earnest 
"  Oh  !  that  it  were  over  !" 

"  Another  thing,  Grace,"  said  the  sympathetic  angel.  "  W(- 
we  forgetting  that  your  father  does  not  expect  to  have  you  will; 
Mm  all  your  life.  Every  parent  looks  ft  nvard  to  the  marriages 
af  his  children  as  probable  events,  and  becomes  familiarized  to 
the  idea.  Yours  will  feel  your  departure  as  a  personal  bereav> 
ment ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  a  load  will  be  lifted  from  his 
mind  by  the  reflection  that  your  comfort  and  happiness  are  sure; 
that  you  are  removed  beyond  the  chances  of  dependence  or 
loneliness.  I  may  be  a  selfish  reasoner,  for  my  interests  are 
with  my  affections,  on  Herbert's  side.  I  long  to  have  you  set- 
tled near  me.  I  suppose  my  second  trip  southward  will  be  to 
countenance  the  final  step  by  my  presence  and  aid — our  next 
journey  in  company  be  another  bridal  tour.  Poor  Louise  !  how 
different  from — how  much  happier  than  hers  !" 

Thus  she  prattled,  in  her  cooing  notes,  attuned  by  Nature  to 
Love's  own  music  ;  sometimes  working  with  me  ;  pausing  fre- 
quently to  lay  her  cheek  to  mine,  to  play  with  my  hair,  or  per- 
form some  other  act  of  soothing  tenderness  that  might  allay  my 
impatience  ;  never,  while  maligning  herself  by  speaking  of  her 
selfishness — a  principle  unknown  to  her  save  by  the  hearing  of 
the  ear — never,  I  say,  referring,  however  distantly,  to  the  pain  of 
the  nearing  partings  to  herself.  Yet  did  I  not  know  that, 
untold  as  was  their  love,  she  and  Frederic  would  suffer  well-nigh 
as  keenly  as  the  two  who  were  openly  betrothed  ;  that  their 
absence  from  each  other  would  have  much  less  to  assuage  it* 
bitterness,  since  their  correspondence,  if  direct,  must  be  confined 
by  certain  limits  laid  down  by  worldly-wise  formalists  ;  that, 
whatever  of  sickness  or  distress  might  befall  one,  the  other  must 
support  the  tortures  of  absence  and  suspense — that  they  mus* 
suffer  apart. 

"  You  may  revisit  Virginia  on  a  bridal  tour,  and  earlier  tha* 


152  M088-8IDE. 

you  now  pretend  to  think,"  I  said,  and  halted  purposely  to  mark 
the  influence  of  the  speech. 

The  slender  neck  was  straightened  in  queenly  hauteur,  but 
only  for  a  second  ;  the  following  thought-flash  revealing  the 
absurdity  of  her  suspic'on  of  my  meaning. 

I  continued,  without  appearing  to  observe  the  transient  touch 
of  offended  dignity  :  "  Mr.  Townley  is  evidently  captivated. 
He  told  me  yesterday  that  he  had  seldom  beheld  a  more  enchant- 
ing May-deu.  I  trust  my  emphasis  pointed  the  puu  as  well  ac 
his  does." 

"  Most  of  his  witticisms  should  borrow  an  edge,"  said  she 
"  Happily  for  his  puzzled  auditors,  he  is  not  averse  to  playing 
chorus  himself  to  his  compositions." 

As  directed,  I  had  left  the  door  unclosed,  and  I  here  heard 
footsteps  down  stairs,  I  could  have  been  sure  were  Herbert's. 
They  came,  too,  from  the  quarter  towards  which  I  was  listening 
for  signs  of  his  return,  but  there  was  no  summons,  and  I  waa 
provoked  at  the  trick  of  my  excited  nerves. 

"  This  conference  is  tedious  I"  I  sighed. 

"  That  shows  how  little  you  know  about  debates  upon  such 
questions,"  rejoined  May.  "  The  marvel  is  to  me  that  they  are 
settled  under  two  or  three  weeks.  Your  father  would  demaud 
time  for  consideration  of  an  offer  for  his  plantation.  Thero 
would  be  an  infinity  of  chaffering  and  counting  of  costs  on  both 
sides  " 

"  Do  you  insinuate  an  analogy  in  this  to  my  case  ?"  I  retorted. 
'  Am  I  a  chattel  to  be  bargained  for — to  be  sold  or  withheld 
without  reference  to  my  will  or  pleasure  ?" 

The  jest  was  cut  short  by  a  low  whistle,  much  more  indistinct 
than  I  was  expecting  to  hear.  It  stopped  short  at  the  end  of 
two  or  three  bars,  and  I  colored  high  at  the  vision  of  the  smile 
»rhich  had  hindered  him  from  executing  the  signal  as  agreed 
apon.  To  gain  composure,  I  brushed  my  hair  and  smoothed  rnj 
collar.  He  should  be  repaid  for  his  saucy  glee. 


MOBS-SIDE.  158 

"  Don't  make  him  wait  !"  remonstrated  May.  "  Have  done 
admiring  yourself  in  the  glass  I  You  are  in  excellent  trim  ;  and 
if  you  were  not,  he  would  not  perceive  it.  See  that  you  bring 
me  an  explicit  account  of  the  sayings  and  doings  in  the  late 
Oouucil  of  Two,  and  don't  show  yourself  up  here  again  before 
light  1" 

She  pushed  me  from  the  room.  A  glance  showed  me  who 
was  standing  upon  the  lower  stair  ;  and  I  studiously  averted  my 
eyes  ai  I  descended,  although  I  could  not  conceal  the  roguish 
expression  that  contended  with  the  pout  I  assumed  for  the 
occasion. 

He  led  me  into  the  parlor ;  shut  the  door  behind  us ;  tightened 
the  arm  that  encircled  my  waist  until  I  exclaimed  with  the  pres<- 
sure  ;  then  released  me  abruptly  and  walked  to  the  mantel- 
piece, upon  which  he  rested  his  forehead  and  groaned,  "  0 
Heavens  1" 

I  sprang  to  his  side,  and  pulled  away  the  arm  that  shadowed 
his  countenance,  my  tongue  palsied  with  the  intensity  of  mj 
alarm.  He  sank  into  a  seat,  and  drew  me  again  to  him  ;  hi* 
every  feature  indicative  of  overmastering  distress. 

"  Darling  !  my  darling  !  how  shall  I  give  you  up  ?"  escaped 
him.  "  And  this  will  draw  down  misery  upon  you,  too,  my  poo* 
child  !  I  hoped  that  my  love  would  be  a  blessing,  not  a  curse  ta 
you.  Oh  !  that  I  had  died  before  I  had  seen  this  hour  !  Do 
not  despise  my  weakness,  Grace  1  I  was  so  hopeful !  This  blow 
:a  too  sudden  I" 

Still  I  could  not  stir,  or  articulate  a  syllable  ;  could  just 
wring  my  hands  and  gaze  into  his  pale  face — my  own  as  blood- 
less. 

The  working  lips  were  pressed  together  by  one  resolute  effort ; 
the  face  grew  calmer,  yet  more  deadly  white,  and  he  spoki 
llowly,  commanding  himself  to  the  enunciation  of  each  wo "d  :•  - 

"  Grace  !  your  father  positively  forbids  our  marriage  I" 
1* 


15i  MOSS-BIDE. 

I  gasped  for  breath.     "  Why  ?"  I  inquired. 

"  He  assigned  no  reason.  He  has  one,  he  says,  which  U  a/J 
rofficient  to  bear  him  out  in  this  denial,  but  it  cannot  be  con> 
municated  to  you  or  to  me." 

"  You  must  be  mistaken,"  1  said,  incredulously.  "  This  is  sc 
aclikc  him  !" 

"  He  neither  spoke  nor  acted  like  himself,"  responded  Herbert, 
"  He  became  stern  at  the  last,  as  if  angry  at  my  importunity, 
»nd  declared  that  while  you  remained  under  age  he  should  never 
yield  his  consent  to  our  union,  and,  if  you  chose  subsequently 
to  defy  his  authority,  you  should  know  and  bear  for  yourself  the 
consequences  of  your  disobedience." 

"  Herbert !  you  are  dreaming  !  My  father,  my  kind,  gentle, 
indulgent  father  could  not  say  such  cruel,  harsh  things  to  you, 
whom  he  likes  and  respects — he  has  said  that  he  did  both — and 
of  me,  the  child  who  loves  him  so  dearly — his  only  daughter  1" 
and  I  wept  aloud. 

Herbert  was  silent,  only  holding  me  closer. 

"  Let  me  go  to  him,  please  !"  I  prayed.  "  He  cannot  be 
unkind  to  me.  There  is  some  misapprehension — some  false  im- 
pression that  I  can  clear  away.  Let  me  go  !" 

"  No  1"  restraining  my  struggles  to  rise.  "  I  have  his  final 
answer,  and  he  has  my  promise  that  all  solicitation  shall  be  sus- 
pended until  you  have  attained  your  majority.  You  could  pro- 
duce no  arguments  that  I  have  not  used.  I  expressed  my  candid 
belief  that  your  happiness  depended  upon  the  success  of  my 
application ;  represented  that  ours  was  not  the  love  of  a  day,  a 
hasty,  thoughtless  whim  ;  I  even  dared,  in  my  desperation,  to 
allude  to  Frederic's  friendship  for  me  and  his  avowed  approba 
Vioii  of  our  engagement ;  and  going  further,  I  asked  if  he  him 
•elf  had  not  suspected  the  object  of  my  visit,  and  why  he  had 
not  sooner  discouraged  attentions  which  had  betrayed  my  seoti 
ments  to  every  one  who  had  seen  us  together." 


MOSS-SIDE.  155 

"  Aud  what  answer  did  he  make  ?" 

"  I  had  rather  not  repeat  it,"  his  brow  reddening. 

"  I  will  hear  it  !"  I  said,  resolutely. 

"  He  reminded  me  that  he  was  not  responsible  to  me  for  hi* 
actions  ;  a  remark  he  modified  when  I  was  about  leaving  him 
Then  he  offered  me  his  hand.  '  Mr.  Wynne,'  he  said,  appa- 
rently moved  by  thoughts  of  my  situation,  '  this  unfortunate 
affair  has  cost  me  as  much  pain  as  it  has  you.  That  there  exist* 
an  impassable  obstacle  to  the  fulfillment  of  your  request  implies 
no  want  of  moral  or  social  worth  in  yourself.  I  esteem  your 
character,  and  shall  always  remain  your  sincere  well-wisher.  I 
should  grieve  were  your  intimacy  with  my  son  broken  up.  As 
my  daughter's  friend  you  will  never  be  unwelcome  at  Moss-side. 
Once  more,  however,  lest  you  should  misconstrue  my  frank  ex- 
pressions of  good-will,  I  must  repeat  that  the  alliance  you  desire 
is  impossible.' " 

"  What  can  be  the  meaning  of  this  mystery  ?"  said  I.  "  Did 
he  drop  no  hint  that  could  serve  as  a  clue  ?" 

"  None  ;  or  if  there  were  any,  I  am  unfit  to  trace  one  of 
them — do  not  remember  it." 

He  hid  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  I  sat  watching  him  as  be- 
fore. 

"Grace!"  he  said.  "You  are  stunned,  but  with  surprise. 
You  do  not  understand — do  not  begin  to  realize  that  we  cannot 
remain  as  we  now  are — that  we  must  part !" 

With  a  bitter  cry,  I  flung  myself  upon  his  breast,  and  suppli- 
3ated  him  not  to  forsake  me.  What  else  I  said  in  my  frenzy  of 
grief  I  was  not  conscious  of  then,  but  I  raved  wildly.  I  had 
wept  until  now  in  ignorant  sympathy  with  his  wounded  feelings 
without  the  power,  in  my  bewilderment,  to  comprehend  the 
-vc-ight  of  the  blow  ;  still  less  to  look  forward  to  the  unavoidable 
issue.  Nor  could  I  listen  yet,  so  violent  was  the  storm  of  pas« 
sion.  I  caught,  in  the  intervals  of  its  bursts,  loving  word?,  be 


156  MOBS-SIDE. 

seeching  me  to  be  comforted  ;  felt  kisses  upon  mj  nauds  and  wet 
cheeks,  knew  that  more  than  one  drop  bedewed  them  from  other 
eyes  than  mine  ;  yet  it  was  not  until  I  lay  upon  his  arm,  sobbing 
with  exhaustion,  that  he  could  prevail  upoc  me  to  hear  what  it 
was  necessary  should  be  said  then.  He  lushed  me  first  as  a 
mother  would  her  infant ;  wiping  away  the  tears,  and  murmuring 
terms  of  endearment,  and  forcing  smiles  that  must  have  made 
his  heart  bleed  afresh. 

"  You  will  not  leave  me,  then  ?"  I  begged  like  the  child  I 
w&s 

•'  My  darling  !  you  are  too  weak  to  talk  of  that  now.  Re- 
member onlv  that  I  love  you — that  nothing  can  change  that 
love." 

I  remembered  far  more  ;  my  brain  would  work,  rebellious 
even  to  him  in  its  torture.  The  heart,  lately  dissolving  in  sor- 
row, was  chilled  into  stone  as  the  truth  was  unfolded.  This,  my 
earliest-born,  my  only  love,  must  be  sacrificed  by  the  iron  hand 
of  duty.  Soon  I  sat  upright,  my  fingers  firmly  interlocked,  my 
sight  bent  upon  vacancy — thinking,  thinking  I  condemned  to 
decide  and  pronounce  the  death-warrant  of  the  victim.  Five 
minutes,  or  an  hour  may  have  elapsed  before  the  trance  waa 
over.  To  me,  it  was  years — and  years  that  changed  the  gii 
into  the  woman. 

The  sentence  of  fate  was  uttered  in  the  composure  of  despair 

"  I  must  submit  to  my  father's  will  1" 

"  And  I  to  yours  1"  was  the  low  reply. 

Then  I  arose  to  go,  I  knew  not  whither,  but  it  was  meet  that 
the  interview  should  end  then  and  there  I  had  reached  the 
loor  when  he  recalled  me. 

"  Grace  1" 

I  turned.  He  was  standing  where  I  had  left  him,  his  handi 
outstretched. 

"  Have  you  no  farewell  for  me  ?"  he  entreated 


M  O  R  8  -  8  1  D  E  .  IftT 

Not  the  burning  kiss  upon  my  forehead  *.ir  the  suppressed 
agony  in  the  "  Heaven  bless  you  forever,  my  precious  lost  dar- 
ling !"  stirred  the  congealed  current. 

I  said  "  Farewell "  in  a  measured  voice  that  did  not  sound  like 
mine,  again  passed  the  doorway,  lost  the  last  ray  of  his  pre- 
sen  26.  and  my  soul  gave  one  fearful  shudder — but  one — as  tbi 
Arctic  blackness  received  it. 


M088-SID* 


CHAPTER  ^ 

and  its  guests  had  departed  ;  and  with  them  the 
M.IO  show  of  summer  skies  ;  the  deceitful  breath  of  summer 
zephyrs.  Lights  twinkled  uo  more  from  every  window  as  night 
Iraped  the  white  walls  of  Moss-side ;  quick-moving  forms 
glanced  no  more  over  stairway  and  hall ;  rambles  by  hill  and 
field  weie  unthought-of,  and  in  the  garden-walks,  the  snow  lay 
an  trampled,  unbroken,  except  by  the  blasts  that  ploughed  and 
packed  it  mto  drifts.  From  morning  until  noon,  from  noon  until 
dark  of  the  stormy  Sabbath,  I  sat  alone  in  my  chamber,  watch- 
ing the  tempest.  Its  fury  had  forbidden  much  sleep  during  the 
uight,  for  dry  leaves  and  twigs  rattled  against  the  casements  like 
bail,  and  ever  and  anon,  stout  boughs  snapped  in  the  driving 
gale  and  went  hurtling  through  the  air,  while  the  building 
itself  rocked  and  creaked  at  the  rude  blows  dealt  upon  its  sea- 
soned timbers.  With  daylight,  its  wrath  began  to  subside  into 
sullenness  ;  to  the  finely  powdered  snow,  wheeling  and  scudding 
at  the  caprice  of  the  wind,  finding  its  way  into  every  crevice, 
even  to  the  inside  of  our  dwelling,  succeeded  large,  slow-falling 
flakes,  descending  ashes  of  desolation  upon  the  shrouded  earth. 
The  air  was  still,  save  when  a  "  whuddering  "  breath  swept  by, 
and  moaned  away  its  life  among  the  hills.  No  moving  thing 
was  abroad  ;  up  to  the  doors  of  the  kitchen  and  cabins,  the  sur 
face  of  the  yard  was  smooth  as  unwritten  paper.  The  ear  ached 
with  the  sepulchral  silence  that  reigned  throughout  the  house  : 
riience  that  was  shocked,  not  awakened,  by  the  challenge  growled 


M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  E  .  159 

by  the  grim  warder  in  the  hall  to  the  hours,  as  they  passed  in 
their  funereal  march. 

The  scene  was  fraught  with  mournful  suggestions.  My  mood 
would  have  suggested  none  other ;  nor  could  imagination 
depict  aught  else  so  gloomy  as  the  real  Present,  arrayed  in  con- 
trast to  a  Past  but  one  week  old  ;  Nature's  most  radiant  sniilc 
and  fiercest  frown  ;  the  light-hearted  child,  affluent  in  love,  and 
the  sorrow-bowed  woman,  who,  in  her  desolation,  was  without 
comforter. 

Frederic  had  exceeded  his  furlough  by  a  day,  to  condole  with 
me,  and  try  the  efficacy  of  expostulation  with  our  father  ;  but 
was  discouraged  in  both  attempts  ;  I  meeting  his  affectionate 
consolations  and  hopes  for  coming  days  with  apathy,  resembling 
indifference,  and  my  father,  by  an  unwonted  exercise  of  authority, 
silencing  question  and  remonstrance  by  the  declaration  that 
he  had  discharged  his  duty,  and  looked  for  submission  from  his 
children.  Frederic  said  that  he  was  nevertheless  greatly  moved 
while  issuing  the  mandate  ;  acting  as  one  upon  the  rack  of 
necessity,  and  charging  him  with  a  message  to  me — the  sole 
communication,  direct  or  indirect,  that  had  passed  between  us 
on  the  subject. 

"Say  to  your  sister,  that  for  nineteen  years  I  have  never 
deceived  her  confidence  ;  never  thwarted  a  wish  whose  gratifi- 
cation could  conduce  to  her  happiness.  Let  her  ask  herself  if  it 
is  probable  or  possible  that  I  could  condemn  her  to  what  she  is 
aow  undergoing  without  a  cause  sufficient  to  warrant  me  in  the 
adoption  of  extreme  measures.  Her  sufferings  may  equal — they 
cannot  surpass  mine.  If  I  believed  that  it  would  mitigate 
hers,  1  would,  although  I  have  no  right  to  do  so,  acquaint  her 
with  the  nature  of  the  objection  which  I  consider — which  I 
know  cannot  be  set  aside.  She  has  been  a  loving  child  hereto- 
fore. If  I  forfeit  her  affection,  I  can  go  down  to  itiy  grave  in 
sorrow — I  cannot  alter  my  resolution." 


100  M  O  8  8  -  8  i  D  E  . 

J  had  no  response  for  Frederic's  indignant  amazement ;  did 
not  second  his  imprudent  motions  for  overt  rebellion. 

"  It  can  do  no  good,"  was  my  unfailing  reply. 

But  did  this  demeanor  afford  contradiction  of  Herbert's  asser- 
tion that  I  would  not  bend  wisely  before  the  storm?  No 
maniac,  dashing  his  manacled  hands  in  the  face  of  the  keeper 
Who  would  chastise  him,  ever  resisted  more  determinedly  than 
did  I.  I  had  nothing  to  win  by  complaisance,  nothing  to  lose  in 
following  the  dictates  of  the  smarting  heart,  whose  first  cry, 
after  the  paralysis  of  the  blow  went  off,  was  of  foul,  undeserved 
wrong,  of  injury  unprovoked  and  irreparable.  I  scorned  to 
weep  when  others  were  by  \  but  neither  would  I  wear  a  lying 
smile.  A  parade  of  woe  was  only  less  obnoxious  than  a  hol- 
low mockery  of  mirth.  When  household  laws  required  me  to 
join  my  father  and  aunt,  I  occupied  my  place  at  the  table 
and  fireside,  and  performed  the  light  duties  that  fell  to  my  lot 
with  mechanical  fidelity.  I  had  no  means  of  ascertaining  whe- 
ther my  aunt  had  been  definitely  informed  as  to  recent  events, 
if  I  had  been  curious  to  ascertain  this.  If  I  thought  about 
it  at  all,  it  was  to  take  for  granted  that  she  was  in  my  father's 
confidence.  I  fancied  that  I  detected  compassion  in  her  treat- 
ment of  me,  and  she  relaxed  her  taciturnity  in  some  degree 
when  my  father  was  present,  it  seemed,  to  cover  over  the  void 
made  by  mine. 

His  kindness  sustained  no  abatement  from  my  cold  reserve. 
He  addressed  me  with  the  affection  of  former  days,  and 
more  secretly,  but  as  constantly,  studied  my  convenience  and 
wishes.  Pensive  he  was  to  melancholy,  but  not  morose  or  petu- 
lant. Attributing  this,  as  I  did,  to  our  estrangement,  which  wa&, 
I  argued,  his  work,  my  heart  hardened  at  the  recollection.  I 
totally  discredited  the  theory  adopted  by  Herbert  and  Frederic 
of  an  inscrutable  mystery  that  rendered  him  irresponsible  for  hii 
decision.  T  believed  that  our  hopes  had  been  sacrificed,  if  nol 


MOSS-SIDE.  161 

to  arbitrary  caprice,  to  some  prejudice,  unjust  as  deeply  rooted. 
Louise's  siieer  recurred  to  me  with  such  subtle  force  as  the 
Tempter  understood  how  to  impart. — "  Although  your  happiness 
now  seems  to  be  his  chief  aim  in  life,  when  an  issue  of  thia 
nature  is  raised,  he  will  not  scruple  to  overthrow  your  air-castles ; 
to  teach  you  that  this  is  a  world  of  realities,  unsuited  to  the 
growth  of  Romance  " 

"  Sho  was  better  versed  in  human  nature — in  man's  nature — 
than  was  I — silly  dupe  I"  I  said  aloud  on  this  lonely  afternoon. 
"  The  Love  that  elevated  me  into  a  region  of  divine  and  peace- 
ful bliss,  was  Romance  to  him.  When  its  very  memory  is  lost, 
and  I  can  creep  in  the  dust  as  resignedly  as  the  other  worms  J 
once  despised,  I  shall  enjoy  the  more  solid  satisfaction  of  feeding 
upon  realities.  I  had  rather  that  the  snow  were  weaving  inj 
winding  sheet  I" 

The  ashes,  grey  against  the  clouds,  whiter  nearer  the  ground 
fell  unceasingly,  and  more  mournfully  as  the  pale  daylight  sick 
ened  to  its  death. 

"  What  have  I  to  live  for  ?"  I  asked  myself.  "  Were  Time  to 
blunt  thw  sorrow,  can  any  art  restore  the  bloom  to  life  ?  And 
this  that  rives  my  soul,  which  has  covered  the  earth  with  sack- 
cloth, is  what  one  hears  carelessly  styled  '  a  disappointment  P  an 
affliction  transcended  by  the  failure  of  the  least  important 
scheme  of  business  ;  not  to  be  mentioned  in  the  same  breath 
witt)  the  decease  of  an  agreeable  acquaintance  ;  nor  in  the  same 
day  with  a  bankruptcy  !  I  am  weak-minded,  for  it  crushes  me  ; 
miserably  destitute,  for  I  have  been  deprived  of  my  all.  I  can- 
not stupefy  my  heart,  or  hush  its  wailings.  Yet  such  grief  is 
never  fatal ;  is  so  slight  in  its  direst  extremity  that  one  must 
gmother  it  in  her  chamber — forget  it  when  abroad.  And  why  ? 
If  he  had  been  in  outward  form,  by  man's  appointment,  mj 
husband,  and  parted  from  me  for  months,  even  for  weeks,  I  might 
seclude  myself  and  weep  over  his  absence,  with  more  than  the 


162  MOSS-SIDE. 

indulgence,-  -with  the  sympathy  of  my  friends.  But,  agaii»  * 
would  know  what  remains  for  me  when  the  wound  is  staunched, 
if  I  live  until  then  ?  When  I  am  twenty-five — thirty — forty — 
Low  will  Life  appear?  Upon  what  is  my  heart  to  subsist 
through  those  tedious  years  ?  What  will  supply  its  springs  with 
refreshment  ?  Will  it  stagnate  into  a  noxious  pool,  offensive  to 
all  about  me,  or  dry  up  ?" 

A  brief  gust  whirled  the  snow-flakes,  howled  in  the  chimney, 
and  screamed  around  the  gables.  The  storm  within  arose  with 
it. 

"  There  are  pious  people  doubtless,  who  would  consider  this  a 
%pital  opportunity  to  sermonize  upon  the  vanity  of  earthly 
hopes,  the  danger  of  creature-love,  the  wisdom  and  mercy  of  au 
unintelligible  Providence.  In  my  blind  folly,  I  would  once  have 
esteemed  these  appropriate  teachings,  judiciously  adapted  to 
quell  the  murmurings  of  a  bruised  spirit.  I  give  them  to  the 
winds  now.  Rejecting  all  human  ministration?,  I  stand  boldly 
before  Him,  who,  they  would  persuade  me,  has  dealt  the  blow, 
and  inquire  its  cause  and  purpose.  Am  I  stricken  because  I 
opened  my  hand  to  receive  His  mercies,  the  gifts  I  had  coveted, 
yet  so  sinlessly  that  I  did  not  repine  while  they  were  withheld  ? 
Did  I.  in  truth,  forget  the  Giver  in  the  very  earliest  transports 
of  my  joy?  The  most  fervent  prayer  that  has  ever  winged 
from  my  soul  was  the  thanksgiving  that  consecrated  the  moment 
of  our  plighting.  Though  unclothed  in  suitable  words,  the  off- 
spring though  it  was  of  a  spirit  often  undevout,  it  was  sincere 
end  pure  as  mortal  thoughts  can  be.  They  may  prate  to  me  of 
tli s  sinfulness  of  undue  affection  for  vessels  of  clay.  I  loathe  the 
hypocritical  cant !  I  recognize  as  distinct  a  law  of  my  being 
compelling  me  to  love  the  man,  as  that  which  impels  to  adora- 
tion of  the  Creator.  If  this  be  regarded  as  my  shame,  I  glory 
In  the  reproach  !  if  it  is  branded  as  idolatry,  I  proudly  profesi 
that  I  am  an  idolater  I" 


M  O  8  S  -  8  I  D  E  .  163 

A  sLriek — not  loud — but  which  thrilled  me  through  and 
through,  stirred  the  solemn  darkness  gathering  iu  passage  and 
hall.  To  me  it  was  deadened  by  distance  and  closed  doors 
but  I  followed  in  the  direction  from  which  I  thought  it  had 
come,  to  my  father's  room.  No  attention  was  paid  to  my  knock 
•nd  I  lifted  the  latch  unbidden.  My  father  knelt  in  the  middle 
of  the  chamber,  chafing  the  hands  and  bathing  the  brow  of  m 
aunt,  whose  corpse-like  appearance  possessed  me  with  an  awfui 
fear.  Hurrying  forward,  I  assisted  in  the  application  of  the 
remedies  My  father  was  unmanned  the  instant  my  entrance 
relieved  him  from  these  necessary  duties. 

"  I  have  killed  her  I"  he  whispered  to  me.  "  I  might  h<iv« 
known  that  she  could  not  bear  it,  but  she  insisted  upon  tn<* 
explanation.  I  am  a  curse  to  everything  I  love  1" 

"  Hush  !  hush  !"  I  said,  almost  as  much  agitated.  "  She 
breathes  again  !  Had  you  not  better  stand  back  out  of  her 
sight  ?" 

Her  reviving  was  slow  and  painful,  and  when  she  opened  her 
eyes  they  were  dully  vacant. 

"  Aunt  1"  I  called,  terrified.     "  Do  you  know  me  ?" 

No  answer,  but  the  same  meaningless  stare. 

Her  brother  addressed  her  with  no  more  effect.  Two  of  the 
servants  were  called  in  to  help  carry  her  to  her  apartment.  She 
was  borne  in  their  grasp,  a  dead  weight  ;  one  arm  hanging 
powerless  from  the  shoulder.  While  disrobing  her,  this  help- 
lessness struck  me,  and  I  hastened  in  quest  of  my  father,  to 
impart  my  suspicion  of  a  paralytic  stroke.  Medical  aid  could 
Dot  be  obtained  on  such  a  night.  John,  the  young  class-leader 
of  whose  gifts  in  prayer  I  have  spoken,  offered  his  services  on 
this  errand  of  mercy. 

"  I  dare  not  let  you  go,  my  good  fellow,"  said  his  master 
"  Neither  you  nor  the  horse  could  live  to  reach  Dr.  llamner's." 

44  You  aiiit  sure  of  dat,  Marster.     No  'fence,  I  hope,  sir  ;  bat 


164  MOSS-blDE. 

'taiut  for  you  nor  me  to  say  whether  the  Lord  wouldn't  spar 
me,  and,  for  the  matter  of  dat,  de  horse  too,  if  we  was  bound 
'pon  His  work.  Miss  Agnes  is  wuth  heap  more  dan  me,  and 
'nears  like  twarn't  much  better  dan  murder  to  let  her  lie  dere, 
11  night,  a-dyin'  maybe,  and  I  warm  and  well  in  my  bed." 

His  master  changed  color  ;  and,  as  if  shaken  in  his  resolution, 
walked  to  the  door  to  take  another  observation  of  the  weather 
It  would  have  been  pitchy  dark,  had  not  the  reflection  from  the 
enow  shed  a  ghastly  glare  over  objects  near  it ;  and  the  hall 
was  instantly  filled  with  the  driving  flakes.  The  porch-steps 
were  completely  buried,  and  a  bank,  several  feet  in  depth,  lay 
against  the  house. 

"  God  help  us,"  said  my  father,  shutting  out  the  storm.  "  W« 
can  get  no  assistance  from  man  while  this  lasts  1" 

The  sturdy  negro  turned  away  disappointed. 

"  John,"  said  his  master,  gratefully  ;  "  you  are  a  faithful  boy, 
too  faithful  to  be  risked  in  such  a  chance  as  this  ride  would  be. 
In  the  morning,  if  possible,  you  shall  make  an  early  start  for  the 
doctor's.  Until  then,  keep  yourself  comfortable.  I  hope  Misa 
Agnes  is  not  so  ill  as  we  think.  At  any  rate,  we  can  do  nothing 
except  nurse  her  as  well  as  we  know  how  " 

"  And  pray,  sir,"  subjoined  John,  with  respectful  emphasis. 
"  The  Lord  works  Himself,  when  He's  tied  our  hands.  Least- 
ways, Marster,  it's  our  business  to  call  'pon  Him  in  times  of 
trouble,  and  if  dese  aint  sech,  I  never  see  none." 

The  homely  phrase  was  often  in  my  mind  during  the  vigil  that 
appeared  endless.  My  father  walked  the  adjoining  room  hour 
after  hour,  his  muffled  footfalls  my  only  relief  in  the  loneliness  ot 
the  night.  Once,  the  rising  wind  was  blent  with  music,  an  unearth- 
ly, dirge-like  melody,  but  it  breathed  of  cheer  to  my  spirit ;  for, 
with  a  glimmering  of  John's  simple  faith,  I  remembered  that 
"  prayer  moves  the  arm  that  moves  th«  world,"  and  I  blessed  the 
pious  soils  that  had  collected,  undaunted  by  cold  and  tempest,  tc 


MOSS     SIDE.  165 

mpplicate  for  the  unconscious  being  whose  life  might  then  be 
near  its  extinction.  I  would  have  hailed  with  pleasure  any 
token  of  pain.  Groans,  convulsive  struggles,  would  have  beec 
more  endurable  than  this  stupor.  She  breathed  heavily,  het 
eyes  sometimes  open,  but  blank  as  ever  in  expression.  There 
was  nothing  to  do  except  to  keep  her  warmly  covered  and 
fwathe  in  hot  flannels  the  limbs  on  her  right  side,  which  natura. 
beat  had  deserted. 

Most  of  the  tune,  I  sat  by  the  fire,  where  I  had  a  fair  view  of 
her,  and  while  Milly,  her  colored  attendant,  dozed  upou  the  rug, 
I  quailed  before  the  reflections  that  rolled  in  upon  me.  The 
evening  of  the  last  Sabbath,  we  four  young  people  had  watched 
a  red  sunset  from  the  arbor  in  the  garden  ;  and,  led  by  our  own 
Dare-free  hearts,  to  thoughts  of  the  other  extreme,  some  one 
related  the  fable  of  the  Egyptian  courtier,  whose  compliments  to 
the  prosperous  fortunes  and  undisturbed  happiness  of  his  host, 
were  interrupted  by  the  latter,  who  conducted  him  to  a  veiled 
niche,  and  drew  a$ide  the  drapery  which  concealed  a  skeleton 

At  the  moral — "  a  skeleton  in  every  heart  and  home," — Fred- 
eric cavilled. 

"  It  is  certainly  not  of  universal  application,"  he  said.  "  I 
detest  this  doleful  philosophy  which  magnifies  every  mote  in  the 
sunshine  into  a  cloud.  The  clear  days  are  the  rule — showers 
and  storms  the  exceptions.  Where  is  the  skeleton  in  any  of  our 
hearts  ?  Has  one  lurked  in  a  secret  closet  of  dear  old  Moss-side, 
lo  !  these  many  years,  and  I,  never,  by  accident,  rattled  its  dry 
bones  ?" 

"  It  has  I"  I  said  to  myself,  now.  "  Through  our  merry  child 
hood,  our  happy  youth,  we  have  frolicked  in  its  shadow,  and  no 
suspected  its  existence.  This  is  its  unveiling  1"  and  I  shook 
with  fright  as  real  as  though  its  fleshless  jaws  were  gaping  before 
my  eyes.  "  Hide  it  away  as  we  may,  it  can  never  be  forgotten. 
If  that  insensible  woman  could  speik,  and  would  part,  for  one 


16ft  M  O  8  S  -8  I  D  E 

moment,  with  the  reserve  that  has  so  fenced  her  in  for  years,  1 
feel  that  she  could  show  a  mysterious  connection  betw  ecu  hef 
sorrow  and  mine.  What  has  revealed  this  to  me,  I  cannot  say, 
but  I  am  not  more  certain  of  her  illness  and  of  my  grief.  Rea- 
son disputes  this  ;  puts  it  down  with  a  flat  contradiction.  '  As 
well,'  she  says,  impatiently,  '  arraign  the  hoary-haired  man  who 
has  slept  with  his  fathers  a  score  of  winters  as  the  murderer  of 
the  infant,  whose  grave  is  not  yet  sodded.'  I  have  not  learned 
to  reason  yet,  and  if  I  had,  I  should  appeal  to  higher  authority 
in  the  intuition  that  has  whispered  this  belief  to  me.  If  I  had 
not  loved,  and  mourned  a  thwarted  love,  she  would  still  be  erect 
in  her  stately  bearing,  invulnerable  to  fear  and  anguish.  How 
those  proud  features  bid  defiance  to  disease  ;  seem  to  hold  Death 
himself  at  bay  !  At  my  age,  as  she  told  me,  she  knew  nothing 
of  patience.  At  her's,  I  shall  be  like  her.  The  idea  does  not 
terrify  me  as  it  did  a  fortnight  since.  I  would  have  cried  then — 
1  Let  me  die  first  1'  Now,  the  thought  of  hardening  and  freezing 
into  the  monumental  stone  of  Love  and  Hope — the  youth  of  the 
soul — is  received  as  the  decree  of  Fate,  with  which  I  want 
ability  and  will  to  contend." 

The  morning  light  showed  me,  in  the  mirror,  a  visage  so  wan, 
yet  so  settled  in  all  its  lines,  that  I  stopped  to  examine  it ;  to 
trace  in  it  the  resemblance  to  the  statue  upon  the  bed  My 
manner,  as  I  moved  about  the  house,  directing  the  servants,  pro- 
duced a  visible  change  in  their  free,  affectionate  deportment  to- 
wards me,  the  youngest  pet  of  the  whole  family — white  and 
Liack. 

"  Poor  Miss  Grace  is  stunned-like,"  I  overheard  the  cook  re- 
mark to  Milly.  "  She  looks  like  her  own  ghost  1" 

It  was  too  cold  to  snow,  and  there  were  signs  of  breaking 
among  the  clouds  whose  offensive  alliance  had  been  so  disastrous 
to  us.  John,  at  my  father's  command  waited  to  see  these  indi- 
cations terminate  in  a  flying  ront,  iud  as  the  sun  darted  a 


MOBS-SIDE.  167 

glance  of  greeting  at  the  earth,  he  was  in  the  saddle.  Dr.  Ham- 
iier  lived  but  four  miles  from  us  :  yet,  urged  as  he  and  the  messen- 
ger were  by  the  emergency,  it  was  past  noon  when  they  reached 
Moss-side.  My  aunt  had  moved  and  spoken  in  the  interim,  but 
the  palsied  side  was  still  pulseless  clay,  and  her  tongue  vainly 
fittanipted  to  enunciate  an  intelligible  word.  The  doctor  re- 
named with  us  overnight,  and  while  he  confirmed  our  opinion 
hat  it  was  a  case  of  partial  paralysis,  delivered  us  from  appre- 
hension of  her  imminent  danger.  The  remarkable  constitution 
of  the  patient  might,  he  affirmed,  effect  almost  a  miracl^  in  favor 
of  a  recovery,  which,  if  not  entire,  would  yet  restore,  in  some 
measure,  the  use  of  her  limbs. 

"  This  must,  however,  be  the  work  of  time  and  care,"  he  said 
"  She  may  be  the  cripple  you  see  her  now  for  weeks — perhaps 
for  months." 

This  was  the  beginning  of  my  assumption  of  the  responsibili- 
ties of  nurse  and  housekeeper  ;  duties  that,  of  themselves,  would 
have  tamed  youthful  levity,  and  clothed  the  countenance  with 
premature  gravity. 

Mr.  Peyton  broke  through  the  drifts  between  his  house  and 
oars  so  soon  as  the  report  of  our  affliction  spread  to  th^  Linden 
plantation  ;  and  the  next  day,  Miss  Judy  rode  over,  unattended 
upon  a  stout  cart-horse  ;  a  blanket  pinned  about  her  kr<;es  and 
feet,  and  in  other  respects  so  bundled  up  that  the  twinkle  of  her 
black  eyes  was  all  that  identified  her  as  our  strong-minded 
neighbor. 

My  aunt's  face  brightened  at  sight  of  her.     With  the  courtesy 
which  had  become  her  second  nature,  "she  glanced  significantly 
t  her  disabled  right  hand,  as  she  feebly  extended  the  left. 

"  No  apology,  Miss  Agnes  !"  replied  Miss  Judy,  giving  it  a 
iearty  squeeze.  "  I  am  too  glad  to  have  a  chance  to  shake 
hands  with  you  at  last  to  mind  wnich  one  I  get.  James  tried  his 
utmost  to  present  my  coming.  He  would  have  it  that  yfwc 


168  MOSS-SIDE. 

would  think  me  a  meddlesome  intruder  ;  but,  said  I,  '  Here  ' 
have  lived  close  by  Mr.  Leigh's  for  twenty  years,  and  been  en 
the  best  of  terms  with  him  and  his  all  the  time  ;  and  now  that 
they  are  in  trouble,  awl  about  Miss  Agnes,  as  fine  a  woman  as 
ftvcr  breathed ' — begging  your  pardon  for  saying  so  here,  madam 
— '  I'd  ne^ei  respect  myself,  and  never  look  them  in  the  face 
•gain,  if  I  did  not  try  to  help  them  in  some  way.  If  I  am  un- 
welcome/ says  I  to  James,  '  I'll  find  it  out  the  minute  I  set  foot 
in  the  house,  and  I  can  but  come  back  as  I  went.' " 

My  aunt's  lips  moved. 

"  She  says  that  she  is  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  kindness, 
and  happy  to  see  you,"  my  father  interpreted.  "  For  my  part. 
Miss  Judy,  I  do  not  know  how  to  thank  you  " 

She  cut  him  short.  "  Don't  bother  yourself  to  do  it,  then. 
AH  I  ask  is  something  to  do  while  I  am  here.  James  wanted  to 
scare  me,  who  am  older  by  seventeen  years  than  he  is,  with  some 
bug-a-boo  story  about  catching  cold,  or  getting  stuck  fast  in  the 
mow.  I  laughed  at  him,  and  had  Billy,  the  strongest  animal  on 
the  place,  saddled,  and  as  L  expected,  I  got  over  safe  and  sound." 

Her  loud  voice  was  curiously  subdued,  and  she  was  evidently 
rattling  in  this  style  to  sustain  our  spirits  with  hers.  Dis- 
similar as  she  and  my  aunt  were,  there  was  much  mutual  esteem, 
and,  as  Miss  Judy  had  said,  uninterrupted  kind  feeling  between 
them.  As  the  worthy  spinster  tiptoed  her  thick-soled  boots  to 
the  least  possible  squeak  ;  re-making  the  bed  for  the  night,  in 
which,  pushing  aside  Milly,  she  deposited  the  patient  when  it  was 
ready,  her  plain  physiognomy  was  goodly  to  behold.  It  enli 
veued  her  charge,  as  did  her  somewhat  boisterous  cheerfulnes 
our  usually  silent  evening  meal.  She  remained  in  the  dining 
room  when  it  was  over,  to  prepare  some  beef-tea,  and  benevo 
iently  exerted  herself  to  amuse  me  My  conscience  smites  me 
now  for  the  indifferent  success  that  rewarded  her  ;  but  she  did 
not  choose  tc  remark  my  ungrateful  listlessness 


MOBS-SIDE.  16i» 

"  Now,  Miss  Agnes,"  she  said,  re-claimmg  her  station  as  chief 
nurse,  "  I  am  going  to  send  Grace  to  bed,  willy-nilly." 

"  Thank  you  I"  was  imperfectly  articulated,  but  the  intonation 
r/as  one  of  gratitude. 

"  Exactly  1"  rejoined  Miss  Judy.  "  We  understand — you  and 
J — that  young  people  need  more  sleep  than  those  of  my  age. 
Don't  be  fretted  with  me,  Grace,  honey  !  Your  aunt  can't  get 
on  so  well  with  me  perhaps,  but  we  can  manage  somehow  for 
this  one  night.  You  are  a  first-rate  nurse  and  the  best  girl  I 
know.  There  aint  many  who  could  or  would  have  scuffled  with 
sickness  and  housework  as  you  have  done.  It  has  worsted  you  a 
little,  and  a  night's  rest  will  set  you  up  again.  Tell  your  aunt 
1  good  night,'  for  you  must  pack  off  right  away.  And  Grace  1 
don't  worry  about  getting  up  early  in  the  morning.  If  the  ser- 
vants want  the  keys,  I'll  give  them  to  them." 

As  I  went  out,  I  heard  the  ready  reply  that  met  the  invalid's 
efforts  to  speak,  before  the  labored  sentence  was  hah01  through 

"  Exactly,  ma'am  !  a  treasure  she  is,  worth  the  picking  up,  aa 
I  tell  all  the  young  men." 

I  smiled  bitterly,  and  wearily  dragged  myself  up  to  my  room. 

Martha,  whose  anxiety  to  contribute  to  my  welfare  increased 
tfith  my  gloom,  had  bestowed  extra  care  upon  the  chamber,  in 
the  prospect  of  my  occupying  it  for  an  entire  night,  a  luxury  in 
which  I  had  not  indulged  myself  since  the  day  of  my  aunt's 
stroke.  Lamp  and  fire  were  nicely  trimmed,  suffusing  the  walls 
with  a  pink  tint ;  the  coverlet  of  the  bed,  folded  down  neatly, 
disclosed  clean,  lavender-scented  sheets,  and  the  plump  pillows 
1  heir  ruffled  cases  yet  glossy  from  the  smoothing  iron,  wooed  m 
to  rest.  A  low  lounge  was  wheeled  in  front  of  the  hearth,  and 
1  threw  myself  along  it,  tired  out  in  body,  but  too  wakeful  in 
mind  to  think  of  adopting  the  regimen  Miss  Judy  had  strictly 
enjoined.  The  pencilled  head  above  the  mantel  was  well  brought 
out  by  the  light  ;  and  while  I  gazed  into  its  unfathomable  eyes, 

8 


170  MOBS-BIDE. 

brimming  with  grief,  I  remembered  the  pity  that  used  to  move 
me  at  its  study  ;  the  wondering  conjectures  as  to  the  nature  of 
the  woe  that  could  so  steep  her  being.  In  my  morbid  depres- 
sion now,  I  found  fault  with  the  artist  that  she  had  not  painted 
passion  in  its  might ;  so  serene  were  the  uplifted  regards  in  com- 
parison with  the  rayless  darkness  in  which  I  was  walking.  "  Is 
any  sorrow  like  unto  my  sorrow  ?"  was  the  language  of  my 
heart.  Then  I  smiled  again  in  withering  scorn  at  Miss  Judy's 
straight-forward  essays  at  match-making. 

"  She  is  happy,"  I  said,  "  because  she  has  a  soul  that  finds 
Buprein  econtent — all  the  food  it  craves — in  her  crops  of  grain 
and  vegetables.  Did  she  ever  thirst  for  affection,  ever  gain  it,  and 
find  it  more  precious  than  her  life-blood,  only  to  see  it  poured 
out  to  waste  as  forbidden  poison,  while  she  was  maddening  with 
torture  ?  Pshaw  f  she  would  laugh,  until  the  rafters  rang  at 
the  question.  Women  are  not  all  constituted  alike  !  Oh  1  if 
my  nature  were  mercurial  or  sluggish  1" 

The  hall-clock  trembled  in  every  joint  under  the  protracted 
agony  of  twelve  strokes.  I  had  not  undressed,  only  moved 
twice  to  replenish  the  fire;  still  lay  upon  the  lounge,  so  immersed 
in  my  musings  that  I  did  not  hear  the  door  open.  I  started  very 
slightly  at  the  apparition  which  confronted  me,  for  I  was  far 
from  suspecting  its  proximity.  It  was  attired  in  a  blue  calico 
drersing-gown,  whose  perpendicular  folds  were  uninterrupted  by 
any  cincture  at  the  waist,  and  its  tight  sleeves  declined  familiar 
acquaintance  with  the  bony  wrists.  A  voluminous  night-cap, 
three  parts  frill,  one,  plain  linen,  contained  the  grey  hair  and  pro- 
jected over  the  astonished  brows  that  went  up  with  the  handd 
t  my  reckless  imprudence. 

"  Is  Aunt  Agues  worse  ?"  I  asked.     "  Am     wanted  V 

"  No.  I  otole  up  to  make  sure  that  you  were  comfortable 
and  were  deeping  soundly,  for  I  could  not  get  your  altered  looki 
out  of  my  head  ;  and  when  Miss  Agnes  dropped  cff  into  a  nap, 


M  O  8  8-  8  I  D  E.  171 

I  ways  to  myseif,  '  maybe  I'll  be  less  uneasy  if  I  look  in  upon  the 
child  ;'  and  here  you  are,  wide-awake,  and  looking  worse  thai} 
«ver  1" 

The  good  soul  swallowed  a  sob. 

I  got  up  in  very  shame,  and  began  to  undress,  when  she  set 
ae  down  again  and  unhooked  and  untied  with  great  energ) 
never  pausing  to  speak  until  my  wrapper  replaced  the  day-drcsa, 
and  she  pronounced  me  ready  for  bed. 

"  Where  I  mean  to  see  you,  before  I  budge  a  step  I"  she  said, 
decidedly. 

I  tried  to  smile  as  she  tucked  the  blankets  around  me.  "  Yon 
are  very  kind,  Miss  Judy.  I  am  sorry  I  have  annoyed  you." 

"  No  annoyance,  honey  I  You  couldn't  vex  me.  I  set  aa 
much  store  by  you,  Grace,  as  if  you  were  my  child,  that  is  I 
think  I  do.  I've  trotted  you  on  my  knee  and  rocked  you  to  sleep 
on  my  bosom  a  hundred  times,  when  you  were  a  puny,  sickly 
baby,  and  if  I  had  not  come  to  love  you  then,  you  would  have 
showed  me  how  since.  I  have  had  trials  myself,  lost  father  and 
mother  and  brothers,  had  a  deal  to  do  and  suffer  in  this  world, 
but  the  thought  of  all  my  ups  and  downs  don't  trouble  me  near 
so  much  as  the  way  you  are  breaking  under  your  burdens." 

She  was  patting  my  hand  with  her  hard  palm  ;  a  motion,  that 
was  somehow  both  affectionate  and  deprecatory. 

"  Don't  think  that  I  mean  to  scold  you,  Grace  ;  but  you  must 
not  look  too  much  on  the  dark  side.  The  Lord  has  some  mean- 
ing in  our  afflictions  :  in  one  way  or  another,  every  one  of  them 
Is  for  our  benefit.  Many's  the  time  I  would  have  given  right  up, 
tf  it  hadn't  been  that  I  was  certain  of  that.  It  is  natural  that 
vou  should  feel  lonesome  and  anxious,  but,  honey,  try  to  shake 
t  off,  and  remember  how  many  blessings  are  spared  to  you. 
Worrying,  even  if  you  don't  speak  it  out,  does  no  manner  of 
good  to  anybody  and  hurts  you.  Your  aunt  notices  it,  I  see 
Her  eyes  follow  you  around  the  room,  just  as  your  mother'* 


i72  M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  E  . 

irould,  if  she  had  lived  to  see  you  in  this  trial.     Too  many  pec 
itle  care  for  you  for  you  to  be  down-hearted  n 

I  thanked  her  as  well  as  I  could  for  the  swelling  in  my  throat 
»nd  she  was  gone.  I  cried  myself  to  sleep,  an  abundant  flow  of 
tears  that  tended  to  restore  the  health  of  body  and  mind.  This 
•ample  lecture,  diffuse  and  wandering  as  it  was,  touched  me  more 
than  the  tenderest  sympathy  of  either  May  or  Frederic.  But 
•he  demon  of  despairing  misanthropy  awaited  my  awakening  in 
the  morning,  and  my  pillow  was  not  more  free  from  traces  of 
rhe  salt  deluge  that  had  flowed  over  it  the  night  before,  than 
jras  my  heart  from  the  melting  influence  of  our  neighbor*! 
friendly  counsel. 


M  0  S  8  -  6  I  D  E  .  173 


CHAPTER    XL 

ANOTHER  winter,  and  yet  another,  had  come  and  gone,  and 
Spring  was  fast  yielding  to  the  fervid  caresses  of  Sun  aier. 

One  warm  afternoon  I  established  myself  and  my  work-basket 
in  the  summer-house  at  the  foot  of  the  garden,  to  have,  as  he 
expressed  it,  "a  comfortable  confab"  with  my  b/other,  Di 
Frederic  Leigh,  by  this  time  a  practitioner  in  a  thrh  ing  town  in 
another  State.  He  had  been  guided  in  his  choice  of  a  settle- 
ment by  the  circumstance  that  this  place  was  the  residence  of  our 
elder  brother,  besides  ourselves,  the  only  surviving  child  of  our 
parents.  Edmund,  Frederic's  senior  by  eight  years,  had  removed 

to  C ,  upon  arriving  at  his  majority  ;  had  been  successful  in 

business,  and  married  a  lovely  girl,  who,  in  the  two  visits  .she 
had  paid  us,  had  won  our  unqualified  approbation  of  his  selection. 
To  this  spot  another  flower  was  shortly  to  be  transplanted,  for 
this  flying  peep  at  Moss-side  was  Fred's  bachelor  farewell. 

"  And  you  will  not  go  with  me,  Grace  ?"  he  said,  regretfully. 

"  I  cannot  1"  I  replied.  "  My  duties  here  bind  me  down. 
There  is  no  option  in  the  matter." 

"  I  do  not  see  this,"  he  persisted.  "  Aunt  Agnes  requires 
very  little  attention,  and  grows  less  infirm  every  day.  She  ia 
competent  to  exercise  a  general  supervision  of  domestic  arrange- 
ments, and  your  trained  servants  may  be  safely  entrusted  with 
the  rest." 

"  I  should  have  no  pleasure  in  my  absence,"  said  I.  "  There 
are  many  things  that  ought  not  to  be  committed  to  others. 
Aunt  would  miss  me  constantly.  I  cannot  go,  Frederic." 

"  May  will  be  grieved — inconsolable  !"  he  returned  with  his 


174  MOSS     SIDE 

old,  boyish  paut.  "  I  doubt  whether  she  will  conside,  the 
ceremony  valid  if  you  are  not  bridesmaid." 

"  I  have  written  to  her  that  it  is  not  in  my  power  to  be 
present,  and  believe  that  she  will  be  satisfied  with  my  reasons. 
I  wish  you  could  bring  your  bride  to  see  us  on  your  return 
ourney." 

"  Not  this  summer,  sis.  She  has  been  somewhat  delicate 
fately,  and  our  proposed  trip  to  the  sea-shore  is  the  best  meana 
rf  strengthening  her.  We  are  to  live  with  Edmund  and  his 
wife  for  the  first  year,  you  know  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  heard  you  say  so.     It  is  a  good  arrangement." 

"  And  then,"  he  went  on,  animatedly,  "  we  will  have  our  own 
-nug  dove-nest  of  a  cottage,  where  a  certain  beloved  sister  of 
mine  will  always  find  a  room  prepared  especially  for  her. 
<5race,  how  can  I  ever  be  thankful  enough  for  the  mercies  that 
overrun  my  cup  ?  I  have  the  best  sister,  and  am  soon  to  be  blest 
with  tne  sweetest  wife  in  the  universe  ;  am  prosperous  in  my 
profession,  robust  in  health  ;  what  more  can  any  reasonable,  or 
nnreasonable  man  desire  ?" 

"  You  have  been  signally  favored,"  was  my  answer. 

"  Sister,"  he  resumed,  in  a  more  quiet  tone,  "  there  are  some 
subjects  on  which  I  wish  to  speak  with  you  " — and  he  hesitated. 

I  waited  to  hear  more,  but  he  appeared  reluctant  or  doubtful 
how  to  proceed. 

"  There  is  one,"  he  said,  at  length,  "  which  you  once  forbade 
me  to  mention.  Will  you  remove  that  prohibition  for  five 
minutes  ?" 

I  felt  the  color  slowly  leaving  my  cheeks,  but  I  answered 
calmly,  "  If  you  ask  it,  certainly  !" 

"  You  were  twenty-one  in  March,"  he  continued.  "  Did  yon 
not  receive  a  letter  from  Herbert  Wynne  ?" 

"  I  did" 

"  Did  you  answer  it,  aad  how  ?" 


MOSS-SIDE.  175 

"  1  gave  it  to  my  lather,  who  replied  to  it." 

"  Grace  !  Forgive  me,  sister  ;  but  was  that  kind,  was  it  just 
«b  one  whose  constancy  has  entitled  him  to  your  most  gentle 
and  respectful  treatment  ?" 

"He  had  both  from  father,  whose  letter  I  read  and  approved 
A  milder  refusal  would  not  have  been  worthy  of  the  name." 

"What  reason  did  he  state  for  continuing  to  deny  his  coo 
ent?" 

"  He  reiterated  his  former  reply  that  an  insuperable  objection 
existed,  whose  character  he  was  not  at  liberty  to  divulge." 

'*  What  can  that  be?"  He  arose  and  walked  to  and  fro  upon 
the  grass-plot.  "  Have  you  ever  pushed  him  with  inquiriea 
about  it  ?" 

"  Never." 

"  Have  you  no  suspicions  ?" 

"  I  used  to  have,  but  I  dismissed  ^hem,  long  ago,  as  worse 
than  useless." 

"  How  composedly  /ou  speak  !  as  if  yon  had  no  care  or  feel- 
ing in  the  affair." 

"  I  am  composed,"  I  said.     "  I  do  *"*  pretend  indifference." 

He  came  and  sat  down  at  my  side. 

"Would  you  knoT,  dearest  Grace,  what  is  the  one  shade 
upon  my  happiness  ?  The  thought  that  you  are  wearing  away 
under  a  hidden  sorrow  1  You  would  tell  ins  that  you  are  not 
ill  in  body,  but  grief  does  not  always  sap  the  foundations  of 
physical  health.  You  are  not  the  Grace  of  two  yeara  ago." 

"  I  am  older,  and  have  more  to  employ  my  mlr-d  and  hands, " 
( interrupted,  dreading  further  examination. 

"  You  evade  my  question  1  vriil  not  confide  in  the  brother, 
from  whom,  in  times  past,  you  could  not  conceal  a  thonght ! 
Still  I  must  speak  while  you  permit  it.  Far  be  it  from  me  t« 
incite  you  to  disobedience  to  the  will  01  the  fathe*,  who  has, 
•xcept  in  this  most  inexplicable  instance,  been  »  mptfeJ  of 


176  M088     SIDE. 

indulgent  kindness  This  exception,  while  it  has  tried  my  faitfc 
in,  and  affection  for  him,  has  shaken  neither.  It  has  only 
proved  him  fallible,  whereas  we  believed  him  faultless.  A  more 
upright  soul,  a  truer  heart  were  never  bestowed  upon  man. 
Yet,  Grace,  he  is  unjust  in  exacting  your  blind  submission  to  hi* 
aw.  In  any  other  parent  I  would  call  this  downright  tyranny. 
No  pledge  of  silence,  if  we  may  imagine  the  possibility  of  his 
being  bound  by  such,  should  prevent  him  from  allowing  you  a 
clue  to  his  couduct,  that  you  might  decide  concerning  it  for 
yourself.  I  am  disposed  to  regard  his  impenetrable  secresy  as 
an  overstrained  point  of  honor,  for  what  cause  imposed,  or  by 
whom,  I  cannot  divine  ;  or,  else,  as  morbid  delicacy,  yet  mor? 
incomprehensible.  What  I  would  "aave  you  ask  yourself  is  this  - 
'  How  far  is  it  lawful  and  right  for  me  to  yield  to  what  may  bo 
a  whim  ;  what  is  not,  so  far  as  I  can  ascertain,  the  result  of  just, 
unbiassed  judgment  ?  Is  the  child  forever  to  remain  a  slave 
to  the  parent's  will,  when  her  own  mature  discretion  descries 
neither  reason  nor  expediency  in  his  commands  ?  May  there  not 
be  duties  to  myself  and  to  another  that  are  paramount  to  his 
claims  T  " 

"  These  arguments  are  trite  to  me  !"  I  said,  wearily.  "  I 
have  reviewed  them  so  often  1  My  work  and  place  are  here, 
where  I  was  born — where  I  shall,  most  probably,  die." 

My  heart  added,  sighingly,  "  Would  that  the  time  were 
near  !" 

"Am  I,  then,  to  understand  that  you  do  not  look  beyond 
the  limits  of  Moss-side  ?  that  you  are  quite  contented  here  ?" 

I  could  not  supply  a  direct  answer  to  this,  so  I  said,  "  la 
there  not  a  proverb — '  With  expectation,  desire  shall  fail  T  " 

II  Enough  I"  he  rejoined,  with  feeling  ;  and  there  was  a  pro- 
tracted pause.     I  sewed,  and  he  pulled  a  sprig  of  honeysuckle 
to  pieces. 

Brushing  the  fragments  from  his  palm,   he  recommenced— » 


MOSS-SIDK  177 

"  You  are  a  noble  creature,  Grace  I  I  reverence  j  mr  hercism 
Do  not  interrupt  me  !  This  is  no  preface  to  further  efforts  to 
tempt  you  from  the  path  of  action  your  conscience  has  chalkec 
out.  I  want  to  inquire  into  the  motive  that  keeps  you  in  it." 

'  Duty  !"  I  said  laconically. 

"  Duty — to  whom  ?" 

"Can  you  ask?  To  those  to  whom  alone  I  owe  it — my 
fcther  and  aunt." 

"  So  I  supposed.  Few  natures  are  capable  of  self-denial  and 
joyless  labor  like  yours.  The  bravest  faints  sometimes  upon 
the  battle  field.  What  bears  you  up  ?" 

'  Will  and  necessity." 

His  countenance  fell.  "  That  was  not  what  I  hoped  to  hear. 
I  have  too  recently  begun  to  lean  upon  a  higher  Power  myself 
to  instruct  you  ;  but  dear  sister,  there  is  a  strength  that  revives 
while  it  supports  ;  not  only  lifts  the  drooping  head,  but  gladdena 
the  sick  heart.  My  hopeful  prayer  is  that  you  may  seek  this." 

He  said  no  more,  for  I  did  not  encourage  this  topic,  and  there 
ended  all  that  was  confidential  in  our  interview.  Little  did  I 
dream  of  the  inexpressible  consolation,  I  would,  in  after  times, 
find  wrapped  up  in  that  short  sentence  ! 

He  left  us  by  sunrise  the  next  morning,  freighted  with  love 
and  good  wishes.  As  was  my  custom,  I  stood  at  the  gate  until 
he  reached  the  bend  in  the  road  that  was  to  rob  us  of  his  form, 
and  shook  my  handkerchief  to  the  wave  of  his  hat,  thrice- 
repeated;  then,  as  though  his  heart-shout  was — "  Now  for 
Love  and  May  !"  he  dashed  the  rowels  into  his  horse's  sides,  and 
was  out  of  sight. 

I  went  into  my  aunt's  room  to  aid  her  in  her  toilette,  whic 
being  completed,  she  leaned  upon  my  shoulder  and  tottered  into 
the  breakfast-room,  where  the  servants  met  with  us  for  morning 
worship.  As  she  was  prevented  by  her  lameness,  from  kneeling 
ft  stand  with  a  cushion  upon  it,  was  set  before  her  easy- chair 
8" 


J78  MOSS-SIDE 

npoi  wbicli  she  bowed  during  the  prayer.  The  head  of  th« 
table  had,  of  necessity,  been  relinquished  to  me,  whose  part  it 
was,  likewise,  to  carve  her  food  into  morsels  of  the  proper  size 
to  be  taken  up  with  her  fork.  Her  helplessness  13  no  wise 
detracted  from  the  dignity  of  her  demeanor,  and  her  malady  had 
altered  nothing  in  the  expression  of  her  regular  features.  If  A 
ruin,  she  was  one  that  impressed  the  beholder  with  veneration, 
not  pity.  Her  chamber  was  my  sitting-room,  and  thither  I 
retired  when  the  overseeing  and  planning  for  the  day  were 
through.  Habited  in  her  conventual  robe  of  black,  her  cap 
as  severely  plain  in  its  fashion,  her  hands  laid  together  upon 
her  lap,  she  sat  for  hours  without  change  of  posture,  sometimes 
without  speaking.  Her  eyes  were  weakened  by  sickness,  and  I 
read  to  her  from  one  to  two  hours  of  every  forenoon.  Her  books 
were  of  a  strictly  religious  cast,  comprising  theological  treatises 
that  are  not  generally  supposed  to  possess  attractions  for 
women.  She  had  her  favorites,  and  they  accorded  with  the  aus- 
tere stamp  of  her  piety. 

In  my  fresh-hearted  girlhood,  I  would  have  yawned  over  these 
works  as  tiresome  homilies  upon  subjects  as  foreign  to  my  taste 
as  enigmatical  to  my  understanding  ;  now,  their  gloomy  paint- 
ings of  the  corrupt  earth  and  the  sinfulness  of  its  human  inha- 
bitants, their  exhortations  to  mortification  of  the  flesh  as 
the  primal  move  towards  the  purity  of  the  soul,  the  pre-emi- 
nence given  to  irksome  duty  over  selfish  pleasure,  begot  in  me 
a  species  of  interest ;  and — without  my  being  aware  that  I 
was  influenced  in  the  slightest  measure  by  tneir  teachings — 
ihaped  both  thought  and  deed.  I  had  no  right  conception  of 
the  new  heart  they  insisted  upon  as  the  indispensable  preparation 
for  the  new  life  I  flattered  myself  that  I  was  leading.  Explain 
ing  the  numerous  allusions  to  it  as  technical  terms  for  a  reform 
of  purpose,  an  intention  to  live  no  longer  for  the  world  and  the 
vanities  thereof,  I  accounted  myself  to  be  diligently  working  out 


MOBS-SIDE.  178 

uiy  salvation  ;  earning  acceptance  from  the  righteous  Judge, 
who  had  arrested  me  in  my  idol-worship,  and  who  was  to  be 
propitiated  by  the  sacrifice,  not  merely  of  the  first  fruits  of 
labor  and  life,  but  of  all  carnal  delights.  Life  was  not  desira 
!  le  ;  I  could  meditate  upon  Death  without  terror  ;  and  my 
juging  for  rest  must,  I  convinced  myself,  be  the  cravings  of  the 
immortal  principle  for  heavenly  joys.  I  lid  not  call  myself  a 
Christian  ;  and  I  was  perhaps  never  less  likely  to  become  one, 
although  upon  this  latter  proposition  I  had  then  a  differwit 
opinion. 

Had  I  read  fewer  books  ;  had  introspection  been  less  of  a  study 
with  me  ;  had  I  looked  more  into  the  hearts  and  lives  of  others  ; 
sued  for  information  from  those  whose  experience  was  superior 
to  mine,  the  duration  of  my  delusion  would  have  been  shortened. 
Mr.  Peyton's  boundless  charity  of  motive  and  act  ;  Annie  Bell's 
cheerful  toil  and  filial  piety  ;  even  Miss  Judy's  homespun  virtues 
might  have  led  me  to  suspect  that  "  Religion  undefiled"  had  no 
inherent  affinity  with  asceticism.  If  my  intercourse  with  my 
father  had  retained  the  affectionate  confidence  with  which  I 
used  to  impart  to  him  every  sentiment,  I  would  have  required  nc 
other  safeguard  against  the  errors  that  beset  me.  But — owing 
to  an  obstinacy  that  might  have  enlightened  me  concerning 
the  weightier  matters  of  the  law,  if  I  had  not  been  too  much 
engaged  in  summing  up,  to  the  last  mite,  the  tithes  of  anise  and 
cummin,  my  share  in  our  tacit  reconciliation  was  incomplete. 
That  this  inflicted  much  and  poignant  suffering,  I  could  not 
doubt.  Perhaps  a  candid  examination  of  intentions  and  feel- 
ings would  have  dragged  to  the  light  a  reptile  from  which  I 
would  have  fled  in  horror — a  lurking  serpent  of  revenge,  feeding 
opou  the  reflection  that  as  I  had  received,  it  was  now  in  my 
power  to  give.  No  word  of  tenderness  from  me  repaid  his  ;  in 
the  even  current  of  our  common  existence,  no  skill  was  necessary 
to  steer  clear  of  the  unsafe  points  and  shoals.  There  were 


18C  MOSS-SIDE. 

additional  furrows  in  his  forehead  and  cheeks,  and  morv  snow 
fell  nightly  upon  his  head  ;  yet  the  genial  smile  and  phasant 
remark  failed  not  to  greet  whoever  expected  them.  His  sifter's 
devotion  to  him  was  perceptible  in  look  and  gesture,  rather  than 
in  any  audible  token  of  regard. 

Our  morning  lessons  over — for  studies  they  were,  and  ardu- 
ously pondered — my  father  joined  us  and  talked,  or  read,  in  M 
turn,  something  of  his  own  selection,  while  my  never-endinf 
needlework  went  forward.  Dinner  was  served  at  one  o'clock, 
and  my  aunt's  afternoon  siesta  liberated  me  from  confinement ; 
freedom  which  I  improved  by  rapid  walks  in  unfrequented  ways, 
sometimes  stretching  two  or  three  miles  from  home.  This  habit 
I  had  acquired  when  the  fever  of  blood  and  brain  drove  me 
abroad,  and  there  were  still  seasons  when  I  sought  in  swift 
motion  and  subsequent  exhaustion  the  most  effectual  quietus  of 
which  I  had  any  knowledge. 

One  spot  I  sedulously  avoided.  I  had  seen  it  once  since  the 
hour  that  had  hallowed  it  to  me  forever.  In  the  early  spring  of 
the  year  before  the  last,  I  was  threading  the  woods  in  its  vicinity, 
and  emerged  unexpectedly  from  the  cover  of  the  trees  upon  the 
cleared  hill-top,  within  a  dozen  steps  of  the  storm-bleached  log. 
It  was  a  bleak  day  ;  clouds,  blue-black  and  grey,  rolling  over 
their  sullen  masses  before  the  March  wind  ;  the  fields  on  both 
sides  of  the  brook  were  ploughed  up,  and  the  damp  clods  lay 
rough  and  stiff  as  they  had  been  heaved  by  the  share.  My 
dream  of  fairy  beauty  was  destroyed  ;  I  cared  not  to  look  again 
upon  the  wreck. 

The  above,  then,  is  a  programme  of  one  day's  occupations  and 
recreation  at  Moss-side,  concluded  by  an  early  supper,  evening 
prayers,  and  retirement  to  our  several  apartments  at  ten  o'clock 
tn  summer,  nine  in  winter  ;  and  this  twenty-four  hour?  was  the 
pattern  for  its  successors  for  months  together.  The  news  of 
Frederic's  marriagt  was  duly  transmitted,  discussed  with  soon 


MOBS-SIDE.  181 

•Low  of  interest,  a  record  made  in  the  Family  Bible,  and  the 
circle  disappeared  from  the  stream  whose  progress  might  have 
seemed  rest,  so  unvarying  were  the  barren  shores  it  washed. 

I  visited  more  frequently  at  Mrs.  Bell's  cottage  than  anywhere 
elee  ;  yet  sincere  as  was  my  regard  for  mother  and  daughter, 
few  of  these  calls  were  prompted  by  friendship  alone.  Thej 
must  have  observed  and  felt  wounded  that  necessary  business 
with  one  or  the  other  was  introduced  during  my  stay,  were  it 
brief  or  long  ;  but  no  signs  of  offended  pride  or  feeling  resented 
this  change  from  the  familiar  friendliness  in  which  Annie  and  I 
had  been  trained.  Frederic  had  called  his  blushing  May  "  wife" 
for  five  weeks  before  I  bethought  myself,  in  the  course  of  a  ram 
ble  that  way,  that  Annie  would  like  to  hear  the  particulars  of 
an  event  so  interesting  to  her  old  playfellow. 

The  air  was  sultry,  and  I  languidly  crossed  the  little  yard  to 
the  porch  where  both  ladies  were  sewing.  Annie  drew  a  rock- 
ing-chair to  the  door,  untied  my  bonnet  and  laid  it  aside,  am] 
Mrs.  Bell  furnished  me  with  a  mammoth  fan  of  turkey-feathers. 
I  was  not  chided  for  my  long  absence,  or  interrogated  as  to  its 
cause.  Mrs.  Bell  was  motherly,  Annie  as  cordial  as  if  its  period 
had  been  measured  by  days,  not  weeks.  The  latter  commenced 
the  conversation  by  inquiries  about  Frederic's  movements,  upon 
which  theme  I  forced  myself  to  speak  cheerfully.  There  was  no 
echo  in  my  heart  for  such  music  as  bridal  chimes,  and  so  palpa- 
ble to  me  was  the  want  of  these  vibrations,  that  I  marvelled 
every  one  did  not  perceive  the  loss.  With  Annie,  the  answering 
note  rang  clear  as  a  silver  bell.  I  listened  and  gazed  at  her 
with  envious  admiration. 

"  What  would  I  not  give  for  her  freshness  of  soul,  her  igno 
•ance  of  the  woes  that  make  men  selfish  !" 

Old  Zack  stopped  at  the  threshold  to  salute  me. 

"  You're  a  mighty  stranger  dese  days,  Miss  Grace,"  he  said, 
Ifew  scrupulous  than  his  superiors.  "  Miss  Annie  and  T  beet 


182  MOSS-SIDE 

wondering  what  Lad  'come  of  you.  She  gits  right  down  'boat  it 
sometimes." 

"Miss  Grace  has  very  little  time  for  visiting,  Zack,"  replied 
his  mistress  for  me  ;  "  and  neither  you  nor  Miss  Annie  have  a 
right  to  think  hard  of  her  for  not  leaving  her  sick  innt." 

"  Cat's  a  fac',  mistis,  jest  what  I  says  to  Miss  Annie.  Mis^ 
ilrace,  is  you  seen  de  fashionable  bee-hive  I  been  put  up  in  Misa 
Annie's  flower-guarden  ?" 

I  had  not,  and  went  with  him  and  his  young  mistress  to  exam- 
ine it.  He  added  some  skill  in  carpentry  to  his  other  accom- 
plishments, and  this  really  ingenious  little  edifice  was  constructed 
after  the  style  of  "  one  he  had  seen  at  Mars'  Robert  Peyton's." 
A  clumsy  but  efficient  apparatus  for  conducting  water  from 
the  well  to  the  garden  was  "  like  one  Mars'  Robert  had  told  him 
about,"  and  he  had  sent  over  one  of  his  men  to  help  lay  the 
hollow  logs  that  served  as  pipes.  The  old  man's  sense  of  his  own 
importance,  which  he  by  no  means  underrated,  did  not  blind  him 
to  the  exemplary  character  of  his  useful  coadjutor.  Where  "  Miss 
Annie's"  interests  were  concerned,  the  two  seemed  to  have 
labored  together  most  harmoniously.  The  most  valuable  plants  in 
her  flower-beds  were  raised  from  slips  and  seeds  supplied  by  the 
choice  collection  at  Linden  ;  a  flock  of  fan-tail  pigeons,  that 
pecked  food  from  her  lips  when  she  would  suffer  it,  owed  their 
parentage  to  a  pair  presented  by  him,  and  the  splendid  New- 
foundland, Sultan,  her  devoted  serf  and  fearless  protector,  had 
been  sought  for  far  and  near  before  the  donor  was  suited  in  the 
pift  he  designed  for  his  prote'gd. 

"  Mars'  Robert  1"  said  Zack,  throwing  himself  into  an  oraton 
cul  attitude,  "  he  is  one  of  de  salt  of  de  earth,  Miss  Grace.  Neber 
you  mind  'bout  han'some  faces  and  slick  tongues  !  He  aint 
got  neither  ;  he's  as  bashful-like  and  modest  as  a  lady — but,  I  tell 
you,  dere's  de  beauty  in  his  heart,  and  he  keep  de  hinges  of  (?« 
smooth  wid  oil  I" 


MOSS-SIDE.  183 

"  It  is  aot  hc'-e/'  /o^v-ked  Annie.     "  Shall  we  go  in  P 

'  Uncle  Zack  h&?  heen  eulogizing  Mr.  Peyton,"  I  said  to  Mra 
Bell.  "  He  is  very  much  Hitached  to  him." 

"  He  well  may  be,"  she  i  -.Joined,  "  since  he,  with  the  rest  of 
as,  owes  more  to  him  thau  to  .my  other  person  living  ;"  and  shf 
proceeded  with  a  second  eiit'cu,  refined  and  enlarged,  of  Uncle 
Zack's  encomiums. 

This  was  all  stale  to  me,  DTI  lid  Annie  manifest  any  of  her 
mother's  enthusiasm.  She  color\  1  slightly  at  some  passages  in 
the  old  lady's  discourse,  as  if  she  treaded  this  zealous  partiality 
might  appear  over-strained,  and  looked  relieved  when  "  Mars' 
Robert "  was  dismissed.  I  arose  to  go,  and  she  accompanied  me 
part  of  the  way,  chatting  about  matters  she  fancied  might  divert 
me,  with  a  disinterestedness  I  failed  not  to  notice.  Even  my 
dulled  heart — dulled  to  everything  except  my  individual  griefs, 
was  moved. 

"  Come  and  see  me  often,  Annie,"  I  said,  at  our  parting. 
"  Ours  is  a  changed  household,  and  presents  no  allurements  to  a 
young  person,  but  you  may  do  us  some  good." 

An  eager,  trembling  flush  mantled  her  face.  "  If  I  could 
only  make  you  happier,  Grace  1" 

She  kissed  me  hastily,  as  if  afraid  to  trust  herself  to  say  more, 
and  ran  back  towards  home. 

I  stood  still  a  minute,  looking  after  her.  Why  should  she 
desire  my  happiness  ?  why  continue  to  love  me  ?  My  neglect 
and  indifference  to  her  society  were  evidences  how  lightly  1 
valued  her  friendship,  and  there  was  nothing  about  me  calcu- 
lated to  please  a  lively  girl.  I  was  too  proud  to  ask  her  pity  in 
uiy  private  sorrow,  and  had  I  uncovered  the  least  portion  of  my 
heart,  this  must  have  been  the  emotion  aroused. 

"  Besides,"  I  said,  walking  on,  "  it  would  be  unnecessary 
cruelty  to  tell  her  of  trials  she  has  never  experienced,  which  she 
may  never  meet.  Up  to  this  moment,  I  am  the  sole  sufferer,  an<? 
alone.  I  will  bear  it  all  P- 


184:  MO88-8IDE. 

"  The  sole  suffurer  !"  I  sighed,  as  the  thought  stiuck  home 
'*  I  should  die  if  that  were  indeed  so.  Am  I  prepared  for  that 
day  ?  for  its  coming  may  not  be  distant." 

In  peevish  anguish  I  cried  aloud  :  "  Shall  I  never  be  re 
ligned  ?" 

"  '  She  whispered  as  she  went  for  want  of  thought,'"  said  a 
oice  beside  me,  that,  mellifluous  as  it  was,  affrighted  me  as  the 
toar  of  a  cannon  would  have  done.    "  Or  do  you  speak  from  the 
abundance  of  the  heart,  in  excess  of  thought  ?" 

"  I  was  not  conscious  that  any  one  was  near  me,  Mr.  Town- 
ley,"  I  replied,  with  a  touch  of  anger  at  his  cat-like  approach. 

He  chuckled.  "  It  was  an  attack  in  &ra-bush.  1  saw  you 
coining,  apparently  in  a  meditative  mood,  and  quitted  the  path 
for  that  thicket." 

"  An  ill-timed  piece  of  impertinence  !"  was  my  thought,  no* 
did  I  try  to  conceal  its  expression  in  my  face. 

He  was  blind  to  the  demonstration.  "  I  am  fortunate  in  this 
meeting,"  he  pursued,  picking  his  way  over  the  dusty  grass, 
never  soiling  the  tips  of  his  boots.  "  I  am  on  my  way  to  your 
house." 

"  Ah  !"  I  said,  absently,  for  I  was  preparing  myself  for  an  un 
pleasant  walk.  Our  suave  neighbor  had  never  ranked  highest  in 
my  list  of  associates,  and  latterly,  his  civilities  had  been  more 
marked  than  agreeable.  I  had  an  instinctive  persuasion  that 
none  but  interested  motives  actuated  him  even  in  the  ordinary 
forms  of  politeness,  and,  without  the  most  remote  idea  in  what 
service  he  intended  to  employ  me,  was  on  the  watch  for  some 
demand  The  shape  it  assumed  astounded  me,  nevertheless — ap 
explicit  offer  of  marriage,  less  elaborate  than  I  had  believed  him 
capable  of  composing,  in  consideration,  perhaps,  of  the  humbU 
taste  of  the  lady  thus  honored.  When  my  wits  and  breath  re 
turned  in  sufficient  quantities,  I  answered  him  in  the  ?ommoo 
place  suitab  e  to,  and  customary  on,  like  occasions. 


MO66-L1DK.  185 

44  Wha,  you  have  said  has  surprised  me  greatly,  Mr.  Town 
.ey.» 

"  Pardon  me,  but  I  do  not  understand  why  it  should,  Miss 
Grace.  One  less  sagacious  than  yourself  might  have  anticipated 
this  consequence  of  my  intimate  acquaintance  with  your  virtues 
and  charms.  The  matter  for  wonder  is  that  this  declaration 
hould  have  been  so  tardy.  I  could  have  made  it  with  as  much 
ruth  more  than  two  years  since,  was  upon  the  eve  of  it  indeed, 
when  a  circumstance,  adverse  to  all  present  hopes  on  my  part 
compelled  me  to  defer  it  to  a  more  propitious  season." 

A  meaning  look  called  up  the  blood  to  my  temples,  but  f 
second's  pause  decided  me  not  to  speak  upon  a  provocation  tha4- 
might,  after  all,  be  unintentional.  He  could  have  no  certain 
knowledge  of  the  event  to  which  I  imagined  he  had  reference, 
whatever  his  serpent  eyes  might  have  gathered  from  outward 
signs. 

"  Let  by-gones  be  by-gones,"  he  resumed,  with  a  kind  of  lighk 
condescension.  "  We  all  have  that  in  our  memories  which  we 
would  fain  consign  to  oblivion.  The  clouds  of  yesterday  need 
not,  perforce,  overcast  the  sun  of  to-day." 

"  Your  apophthegms  are  riddles,  sir,"  I  returned  coldly.  "  Not 
being  an  adept  in  solving  such,  I  must  request  of  you  the  favor 
to  speak  plainly." 

It  was  his  tune  to  be  surprised,  and  the  counterfeit  was  ably 
managed. 

"  To  what  could  I  refer,  unless  to  the  dangerous  illness  of  youi 
aunt,  which  unfitted  a  lady  of  your  beautifully  sensitive  feeling  for 
the  entertainment  of  any  proposition  relating  merely  to  yonr« 
self,  important  as  such  proposition  might  seem,  if  presented  in 
an  undisturbed  moment  ?  Engrossed  as  you  were  with  amia1 1« 
jares  on  her  account,  cares  continued  to  the  present  time  I 
may  be  excused  for  delaying  the  presentation  of  my  suit." 

The  advantage  he  had  gained  by  this  adroit  reply  was  as  ap 


186  MOSS-SIDE 

parent  to  me  as  it  was  to  him,  and  pique  afforded  me  strengib 
to  say,  "  Since  my  answer  is  the  same  that  you  would  have 
received  then,  I  cannot  but  deplore  a  delay  that  may  have  caused 
you  inconvenience  and  some  degree  of  anxiety." 

Curbing  my  satiric  inclination  with  the  recollection  that  tie 
form  of  respect  he  maintained  should  be  repaid  in  kind,  I  added, 
"  I  am  sure  that  you  prefer  frank  dealing  to  any  play  of  fair 
words.  I  cannot  reciprocate  the  attachment  you  have  professed, 
and  have  no  disposition  to  tamper  with  the  feelings  of  a  friend. 
Therefore,  we  will,  if  you  please,  drop  this  subject  now  and  for- 
ever." 

His  thin  skin  revealed  the  flush  that  dyed  the  roots  of  his 
eandy  hair,  and  the  blue  light  I  had  once  before  seen,  gleamed 
in  his  eyes  ;  then  his  face  was  composed  into  a  proper  and  de- 
cent regret. 

"  I  honor  your  candor  ;  but  I  am  not  altogether  ready  for 
the  demolition  of  the  most  cherished  hope  of  my  life.  In  your 
oompassiouate  fear  of  inflicting  further  pain  by  heightening  my 
expectations,  should  you  deliberate  upon  my  proposal,  you  over- 
look the  possibility — not  an  unheard-of  thing  in  a  lady,  by  the 
way — that  you  may  change  your  mind.  I  will  wait  whatever 
time  you-  may  set,  and  exculpate  you  from  any  design  to  trifle 
with  my  affections,  should  your  final  resolve  be  the  same  you 
have  just  expressed." 

"  It  is  needless,"  I  rejoined.  "  My  decision  is  unalterable.  1 
beg  you  to  accept  it  as  such  at  once,  Mr.  Townley." 

"  This  is  indeed  remarkable,"  he  said,  thoughtfully.  "  An 
tmprecedented  case  1" 

"  In  your  experience,  perhaps,"  I  returned,  growing  fretful  at 
his  tone  and  unmanly  persistence  in  a  suit  that  displeased  me 
"  There  Is  no  coquetry  in  my  conduct,  however  much  yon  may 
aave  met  with  in  others." 

"  I  am  not  the  beau-general  you  intimate,  Miss  Grace  ;  no/ 


M  0  8  8- 8  I  D  E.  187 

win  /  submit  to  the  imputation  from  you,  just  at  present,  with 
the  equanimity  I  usually  study  to  preserve  iu  the  presence  of  a 
lady." 

This  warrantable  hit  at  my  ungenerous  taunt  again  gavf  me 
'he  worse  side  of  the  contest,  for  contest  I  began  to  understand 
it  to  be.  I  tried  to  close  it  by  one  effort. 

"  Mr.  Townley,"  I  said,  "  this  is  downright  trifling  on  the 
part  of  both.  You  claim,  and  it  may  be  justly,  an  intimate 
acquaintance  with  my  disposition  and  traits.  You  cannot  accuse 
me  of  vacillation  in  the  past,  and  never  has  my  mind  been  more 
(Irmly  made  up  than  it  is  in  this  affair.  I  offer  no  encourage- 
ment. I  should  deceive  you  grossly  were  I  to  hold  out  the  sup- 
position that  any  amount  of  time  or  thought  could  make  me 
waver  a  hair's  breadth  from  the  answer  you  have  received.  Im- 
portunity may  disgust,  it  cannot  move  me." 

"  The  reply  in  substance  which  your  father  made  to  Mr. 
Wynne  I"  was  the  sneering  response. 

A  deadly  faintness  seized  my  heart  ;  and  the  momentary 
check  of  the  blood  in  vein  and  artery  was  followed  by  a  tumults 
ous  rush,  a  beating  like  ten  thousand  pulses  through  my  body  ; 
my  head  swam,  and  I  caught  at  a  tree  to  save  myself  from 
falling. 

"  You  seem  overpowered  I"  were  the  words  that  restored  my 
failing  consciousness.  "  Accept  my  arm.  Permit  me  to  find  a 
seat  for  you." 

J  recoiled  from  his  touch,  and  as  fast  as  my  limbs  would  carry 
me.  I  hurried  along  the  path  to  Moss-side,  now  in  sight,  praying 
inwardly  for  power  to  support  me  to  its  gate.  Mr.  Townley 
kept  pace  with  me,  and  I  could  not  shut  my  ears. 

"  You  were  under  the  impression  that  the  history  of  that  love- 
passage  was  confined  to  your  household  ?  There  are  unerring 
gigns  that  betray  blighted  affection,  though  all  tongues  be  dis- 
creet. No  gossio,  male  or  female,  who  has  seen  you  since  youi 


188  MC    8  8-8  I  D  E. 

lover  s  departure,  has  read  these  amiss  in  your  countenance  and 
deportment.  I  hare  tendered  to  yon  an  opportunity  of  cot- 
founding  their  wise  saws  and  knowing  predictions,  and  you  have 
treated  it  with  disdain.  Your  father  has  never  entrusted  you 
with  the  reason  of  his  opposition  to  your  union  with  the  man 
whoso  '  professed  attachment '  you  anUd  '  reciprocate,'  I  be- 
1  ieve  r 

I  did  not  speak,  but  continued  my  irregular  race,  my  hand 
against  my  heart,  that  its  palpitations  might  not  entirely  deprive 
me  of  breath. 

"  In  this  instance,  I  construe  silence  into  dissent,  Mr.  Leigh 
has  more  prudence  than  I  gave  him  credit  for.  A  dangerou« 
secret  should  be  guarded  carefully  ;  and  if  one  would  have  i< 
remain  a  secret,  he  had  better  blazon  it  in  the  newspapers  than 
admit  a  woman  into  his  confidence.  This  was  no  business  of 
mine,  except  as  everything  relating  to  you  affected  me  more  or 
less  ;  and  the  principle  of  self-preservation  cautioned  me  not  to 
stand  by  tamely  and  let  the  prize  be  born,  off  by  another  ;  when, 
thanks,  in  part,  to  his  obliging  communicativeness,  I  was  in 
possession  of  a  story  that  would  stop  all  proceedings,  even  nullify 
a  contract  matrimonial,  supposing  the  preliminaries  had  beeo 
entered  upon.  I  have  suspected  that  your  filial  devotion  ha* 
sustained  some  damage  from  your  father's  seeming  perverseness, 
but  this  should  not  be.  If  I  did  not  esteem  Mr.  Leigh  my  con- 
fidential client,  I  could  show  you,  in  a  word,  the  propriety  of  his 
course.  Had  his  courage  failed,  Mr.  Wynne,  knowing  half  aa 
much  as  I  do,  would  have  discarded  the  thought  of  the  alii 
mnce." 

"  Mr.  Townley  I"  I  said,  facing  him.  "  What  object  yoa 
can  have  in  this  brutality,  beyond  the  gratification  of  an  unmanly 
spite,  it  is  hard  to  say.  I  have  endured  your  insults  because  I 
am  a  woman  and  unprotected.  You  imagine  yourself  secure  is 
the  certainty  that  I  will  not  report  your  language  to  my  father 


MOSS-SIDE.  18fc 

whose  age  woul.  not  permit  him  to  become  your  antagonist  , 
but  there  is  still  3ne  whose  right  it  is  to  defend  me.  Every  word 
of  this  conversation  goes,  by  the  next  mail,  to  my  brother,  whom 
aDthing  can  detain  from  my  side  if  I  require  his  aid." 

"  Do  it  1"  he  cried,  with  unruffled  coolness.  "  The  spirit  goes 
with  tl;e  blood,  I  see  1  I  have  enough  regard  left  for  you  to 
warn  you  of  the  consequences  of  this  rash  action  of  yours,  should 
your  brother's  conduct  justify  your  expectations." 

He  leaned  towards  me,  and,  his  eyes  glittering  like  blue  steel, 
exchanged  his  tone  for  one  of  menace.  "  His  aim  may  be  true, 
his  blade  keen,  yet  my  shot  is  surer  to  pierce  a  vital  part,  my 
weapon  will  destroy  not  life,  but  what  you  may  prize  more 
dearly — the  honor  of  your  family.  If  you  are  unbelieving,  ask 
your  father  the  value  of  the  stake  for  which  the  game  you  pro- 
pose would  be  played.  Hearken  to  my  advice,  Miss  Grace,  and 
do  not  wantonly  alienate  a  friend,  who,  as  an  enemy,  could  over- 
whelm your  house  with  infamy." 

"  Infamy  1"  I  repeated. 

"  I  have  said  it  !"  he  replied,  sententiously. 

We  were  at  the  yard-gate,  the  goal  that  had  seemed  to  elude 
my  uncertain  feet,  so  long  had  they  been  in  gaining  it.  My 
father  was  pruning  away  the  dead  branches  of  a  rose  tree.  His 
head  was  uncovered,  and  the  evening  sun  slanting  athwart  his 
silvered  hair  reminded  me  of  the  "crown  of  glory"  upon  the 
hoary  head,  "  found  in  the  way  of  righteousness."  Giddy  and 
sick  as  I  was,  his  open  brow  and  benignant  smile  were  decisive 
proofs  to  me  that  the  abominable  insinuation  of  guilt  of  hi* 
that  could  entail  ruin  upon  all  of  his  name  was  a  rile  fabrics 
tion. 

The  gate  was  inhospitably  fast  to  Mr.  TewrJey,  &ad  my  fatbe" 
bad  to  lend  him  some  assistance. 

*'  You  are  pale,  my  daughter/'  he  observed.  Have  yo« 
ralked  far?" 


190  M  O  8  8-B  I  DE. 

"To  Mrs.  Be.l'fi,"  I  answered.  "The  weather  is  oppres- 
sive." 

Mr.  Townley  relieved  me  in  his  easy  way.  "And  our  fair 
pedestrian,  thoroughly  trained  as  she  is,  is  not  quite  adequate  to 
i  three  mile  heat" 

"  You  had  better  lie  down,  my  dear,"  said  my  father.  "  Mr. 
Townley  will  remain  to  tea." 

"  I  thank  you,  sir,  but  my  sisters  will  be  expecting  me  home 
I  called  by  to  deliver  a  letter  I  brought  from  the  office,  think 
ing  that  it  might  be  from  Frederic,  and  you  would  like  to  have 
it  immediately  " — I  was  obliged  to  hear  as  I  trod  dizzily  up  the 
walk  and  steps. 

A  fit  of  hysterical  weeping  was  the  vent  of  outraged  feeling—* 
so  protracted  and  violent,  that  it  was  dark  when  I.  ventured  to 
present  myself  in  my  aunt's  chamber.  Her  chair  was  by  the 
window,  and  the  candles  were  yet  unlighted.  I  apologized, 
while  repairing  this  negligence,  for  the  lateness  of  my  appear 
ance,  pleading  extreme  lassitude  produced  by  my  warm  walk. 

"  I  hoped  you  were  enjoying  yourself  abroad,"  she  said,  kindlj 
"and   I   have   needed  nothing.     You  should   not   abridge   or 
hurry  your   excursions   on   my  account.      You   are   too   much 
confined.     I  have  thought  of  it  much  this  afternoon — and  aU 
for  me  ! 

She  sighed  heavily.  These  exhibitions  of  feeling  we^e  ex 
tremely  rare,  and  I  never  knew  how  to  receive  them. 

"I  am  better  satisfied  here  than  anywhere  else,"  I  replied 
"  You  must  not  vex  yourself  about  what  I  do  not  think  a  hard 
ship." 

She  was  iu  the  humor  for  talking.     "  I  have  been  thinking  of 

Pred°ric,  too,  and  his  pretty  wife.     I  wish  he  had  brought  her 

home  directly  they  were  married.     Their  happiness  would  have 

inspirited  us  all.     They  must  be  a  handsome  couple.     Is  h?  Jess 

*'oear  to  you  since  his  wedding?" 


M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  E.  191 

"  No,  ma'am.  Daring  his  engagement  I  became  accustomed 
to  the  idea  of  resigning  him.  As  he  cannot  live  with  us,  we 
should  be  glad  that  he  has  some  one  to  make  a  desirable  home 
of  the  residence  he  has  selected." 

Her  solicitude  reverted  to  me.  "  When  they  are  settled,  you 
must  leave  the  old  people  to  look  after  each  other  for  a  while, 
and  pay  them  a  visit.  There  must  be  happier  days  in  store  for 
you." 

Her  grave  features,  as  she  said  this,  wore  some  resemblance 
to  her  brother.  Had  she  appeared  thus  to  the  child  or  girl,  my 
responsive  burst  of  affection  might  have  broken  the  ice-wall  be- 
tween us,  and  I  tasted  something  of  the  sweetness  of  a  mothers 
ove.  I  experienced  no  such  inclination  now. 

I  rolled  her  chair  out  of  the  draught,  if  any  there  was  stirring 
ill  the  murky  atmosphere  ;  laid  everything  in  readiness  for  her 
eirly  retiring,  and  led  her  into  the  supper-room.  The  seat  at 
the  foot  of  the  board  was  vacant.  Joe  had  seen  his  master  "  fv 
cut  towards  the  quarters  about  half  an  hour  before,"  and  reckoned 
it  was  to  see  "  Uncle  Eeuben,"  one  of  the  negroes  who  had  bete 
ailing  for  a  day  or  two.  Our  rule  in  such  cases  was  to  proceed 
with  the  meal  without  sending  for  him.  it  was  soon  over,  and 
I  had  seen  my  aunt  in  bed  and  stolen  out  to  seek  calm  from  the 
repose  of  the  night,  when  my  father's  step  grated  on  the  gravel- 
walk. 

"  How  is  Reuben,  sir  ?"  I  inquired. 

"  I  have  not  seen  him,  my  daughter." 

"  You're  very  tired,"  I  continued.  "  Will  you  have  your  sup« 
per  ?  It  is  waiting  for  you." 

"  I  wish  none  to-night — thank  you." 

He  kissed  me  a  "  good-night,"  and  went  slowly  on  to  his  room 
His  melancholy  turns  were  seldom  attributable  to  any  direct  and 
recent  agency,  and  departed  as  they  had  come.  My  own  mind 
was  too  much  oppressed  to  conjecture  concerning  big 


192  M  O  8  8-8  I  D  K. 

The  recollection  was  revived  by  Martha,  who  entered  my  chant 
ber,  as  I  was  undressing,  to  deliver  a  letter  her  master  had 
vent. 

I  had  the  presence  of  mind  to  order  her  out  so  soon  as  I  re- 
cognized the  superscription — then  I  stood  for  many  minutes,  un 
ible  to  unfold  the  sheet  or  to  re-read  the  address,  which  was  mj 
athnr'ft,  in  Herbert  Wynne's  handwriting. 


VO88-SIDE. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

4  MY  DEAR  SIR: 

"If  the  paijful  duty  Friendship  imposes  upon  me  could  be  per- 
fvrnied  by  any  other  hand,  mine  should  never  write  what  will  shroud  your 
borne  in  gloom  " 

Tims  far  I  read.  My  terrified  mind  grasped  the  rest,  it  seemed 
without  the  help  of  the  organs  of  visioii.  My  brother — iny  brave, 
fond,  beautiful  brother  !  the  bridegroom  of  one  mouth — was  no 
more  !  He  was  bathing  with  a  party  of  gentlemen  in  the  surf  ; 
ventured  too  far  ;  was  overtaken  by  the  undertow,  and  carried 
out  to  sea  ;  the  next  mountain  wave  dashed  his  body  upon  the 
beach — untenanted  clay  1  Brief  history  of  the  quenching  of  the 
one  remaining  light  of  our  hearts  1 

In  the  midst  of  his  grief,  the  father  remembered  the  young 
ereature  who  had  so  lately  murmured,  "  'till  death  do  us  part," 
ifith  no  presage  of  this  speedy  and  fearful  release  from  the  obli- 
gations she  assumed.  It  was  her  wish,  Herbert  stated,  to  have 
the  remains  interred  in  a  cemetery  near  the  home  to  which  she 
would  now  return  ;  and,  dearly  as  he  coveted  the  mournful  pri- 
vilege of  laying  his  boy  to  rest  beside  his  mother,  my  father 
wrote  instantly  to  Mr.  Wynne,  ordering  that  all  should  be  done 
as  May  requested  ;  to  herself,  a  letter  of  the  most  affectionate 
sympathy.  My  aunt  was  ill  for  days  after  the  intelligence  was 
communicated,  and  there  could  not  be — I  said  impiously — an 
grily — a  drop  remaining  in  the  vial  of  wrath  which  had  been 
poured  upon  our  devoted  family.  The  seditious  horde  of  blas- 
phemies that  rushed  up  from  my  soul,  at  the  stroke  of  this  calac 
9 


1  *>4  MOSS-SID  K  . 

mity,  put  my  self-righteous  imaginings  to  flight.  Dust  thickened 
upon  the  covers,  and  canker  blackened  the  clasps  of  my  Bible. 
From  a  Pharisee,  I  became  an  infidel,  practically — to  myself,  a 
confessed  rebel,  stubborn  as  hopeless. 

The  reader  cannot  desire  more  ardently  than  I  to  pass  "apidly 
over  this,  the  dark  age  of  my  life.  My  heart  revolts  at  its  de- 
tails ;  my  hand  would  fain  seal  the  tear  and  blood-stained  pages 
forever.  Is  mine  too  sorrowful  a  tale  ?  Oh  !  if  the  sun  and 
dew  of  God's  visible  mercy  still  abide  upon  your  home  ;  if  lover 
and  friend  have  not  been  put  far  from  you — yet  believe  that 
thousands  of  aching  spirits  upon  the  earth  that  is  all  smiles  to 
you,  will  testify  to  the  truthfulness  of  the  picture  you  condemn 
as  too  gloomily  shaded.  No  artist  has  ever  dared  to  give  the 
thunder-cloud  upon  his  canvas  the  inky  hue  of  that  which  sweeps 
across  the  heavens  we  love  to  think  of  as  eternally  serene  ;  and 
even  those  to  whom  Sorrow  has  been,  at  some  time,  a  familiar 
companion — when  the  footprints  of  the  destroying  angel  are 
effaced,  forget  how  dense  was  the  darkness  of  his  presence. 
Men  are  most  skeptical  as  to  the  gregarious  nature  of  trouble, 
taught  though  it  is,  in  aphorisms  which  condense  the  wisdom  of 
generations  past — illustrated  in  their  sight  daily.  Truly  sings 
the  greatest  of  living  poets — the  magician,  whose  harp  is  Hit 
vast  heart  c  f  humanity  : 

"  Disasters  come  not  singly ; 


sasers  come  no   sngy ; 

But  as  if  they  watched  and  waited, 
Scanning  one  another's  motions, 
When  the  first  descends,  the  others 
Follow,  follow,  gathering  flock- wise 
'Round  their  victim,  sick  and  wounded, 
First  a  shadow,  then  a  sorrow, 
'Till  the  air  is  dark  with  anguish." 


The  moiher  could  tell  of  the  fast  procession  of  little  comns 
across  her  threshold  after  Death  had  once  halted  there  ;  the  hu» 


M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  E  .  195 

hand  may  relate  how  among  the  cluster  of  short  mounds  iii  the 
family  burial-place,  arises  one  longer  and  higher,  where,  worn 
with  watching  and  grief,  she,  last  of  all,  lay  down  with  the  lambs 
she  could  not  save  from  disease  and  decay.  Many  a  doubting 
Elijah  is  appalled  by  the  wind,  the  earthquake,  the  fire,  before 
he  still,  small  voice  whispers  of  peace  and  love  to  his  bewildered 
oul. 

With  the  December  snow  came  another  black-sealed  letter  to 
drain  the  tears  unwept  for  previous  calamities.  My  brother 
Edmund  had  lost  his  wife,  the  lovely  girl  whom,  ten  years  be- 
fore, he  had  introduced  to  us  as  his  bride.  We  could  show  no 
outward  tokens  of  respect  to  her  memory,  for  there  were  none 
but  sable  garments  and  sad  faces  at  Moss-side,  but  while  the 
affliction  was  to  us  slight  when  compared  with  the  bereavement 
we  had  recently  sustained,  we  mourned  for  the  widowed  hus 
band,  the  motherless  child. 

"  I  have  just  heard  again  from  Edmund,"  said  my  father  to  me, 
one  evening  ;  "  and  must  consult  you  before  I  reply.  He  is  per- 
plexed what  to  do  with  his  little  girl.  '  She  has  been  most  careful- 
ly raised  by  the  best  of  mothers  ; '  he  writes, '  and  I  should  be  want- 
ing in  duty  to  her  and  to  the  departed,  were  I  to  expose  her  now 
to  the  subtle  temptations  and  glaring  evils  of  a  boarding-school  j 
or  undertake  to  have  her  instructed  under  my  own  roof,  when 
my  personal  superintendence  must  necessarily  be  irregularly  exer 
cised  ;  my  best  attempts  fall  far  below  the  watchful  guardian- 
ship of  the  parent  she  has  lost.  A  girl  should  be  educated  by  a 
woman.  I  cannot  do  mine  the  injustice  to  deny  her  this  need  of 
jf.-r  nature.  A  man  of  business  is,  of  all  others,  the  least  com- 
petent to  a  task  so  difficult  and  delicate.  Now  for  my  petition, 
which  is  so  bold  that  nothing  but  th<s  exigency  could  force  me 
lo  present  it.  Will  our  Grace  accept  this  onerous  charge  for  a 
while,  at  least  until  I  can  settle  upon  a  second-best  plan  ? 
Lilias  is  a  child  of  warm  feelings  and  so  n-  quickness  </  intellect ; 


196  MO8B-8IDE. 

is  easily  controlled  by  those  she  loves,  and  she  will  soon  become 
attached  to  my  lovable  sister.  Your  experience,  my  deal  father 
has  proved  how  nearly  an  aunt  can  supply  a  mother's  place 
Tell  Grace  that  I  do  not  press  this  imposition  by  arguments  01 
persuasions.  She  knows  what  an  inestimable  benefit  she  wil. 
confer  upon  me  and  Lilias  by  granting  my  wish.  If  she  decline 
the  responsibility,  I  cannot  blame  her,  and  shall  love  her  none 
the  less.'" 

This  proposal  acted  like  the  charge  of  a  galvanic  battery 
arousing  me,  for  the  time,  from  my  lethargic  state.  I  was,  1 
told  my  father,  reluctant  to  enter  into  any  engagement  to  teach 
a  child,  whose  preliminary  tuition  had  been  received  from  the 
accomplished  woman  I  knew  my  sister-in-law  to  have  been. 

"  Her  father  could  not  have  made  a  more  unfortunate  selec- 
tion," I  said.  "  I  am  unversed  in  the  habits,  even  in  the  playj 
of  children  ;  and  as  to  nursing,  any  girl  eleven  years  old,  who 
has  younger  brothers  and  sisters,  could  manage  better  than  I." 

"  These  are  things  that  come  naturally  to  your  sex,"  answered 
my  father;  "  Lilias  is  a  healthy  child  of  nine,  not  a  babe  io 
arms,  you  must  recollect  ;  and  in  the  science  of  games,  she  pro- 
bably needs  no  instruction.  She  will,  as  Edmund  says,  contri- 
bute to  your  cares,  now  too  laborious  for  your  age  and  strength." 

"  I  am  quite  well,  sir,  and  have  not  enough  to  do,"  I  interrupt- 
ed in  my  ordinary  tone  of  indifference.  "  Nothing  else  agrees 
with  me  so  well  as  constant  occupation." 

He  sighed,  and  I  read  in  his  look  the  yearning  to  hold  me  to 
his  bosom  and  weep  with  me  over  the  mutual  sorrow  that  had 
left  us  so  little  joy,  upon  which  our  minds  could  dwell  ;  but  my 
aspect  was  uninviting.  These  endearments  belonged  to  an  age 
aow  dead. 

"  I  wish  we  could  fall  upon  some  other  mode  of  providing  for 
Lillv,"  he  said,  seriously.  "  I  have  all  confidence  in  your  ability 
to  do  what  your  brother  desires,  so  far  as  moral  and  mentaJ 


MOB  9-S  IDE.  19? 

training  goes  I  am  unwilling,  however,  to  subject  jour  health 
to  the  danger  jf  increased  confinement  and  the  anxiety  you  »viJt 
experience  while  your  distrust  of  yourself  continues." 

"  I  will  take  her,"  I  said,  .quietly. 

He  paused  in  surprise.  "  Have  you  counted  the  cost — do  yo$ 
think  ?"  he  asked. 

"  I  have,  sir.  Since  you  are  surety  for  my  nuwt  doubtful 
qualifications,  I  do  not  hesitate  to  pledge  myself  to  the  per- 
formance of  minor  duties.  Please  say  as  much  to  brother  from 
me.  Will  he  bring  her  to  Moss-side  himself  ?" 

"  So  he  proposes,  and  if  your  conclusion  is  favorable,  he  would 
like  to  have  the  journey  over  before  the  weather  renders  th« 
roads  impassable.  She  will  be  a  pretty  Christmas  gift  for  you 
if  they  can  reach  us  in  season." 

It  was  rather  singular,  and  to  me  ominous  of  a  conspiracy 
between  him  and  Edmund,  that  they  arrived  on  the  eve  of  the 
very  day  he  had  named — an  anniversary  with  me,  one  of  the 
many  against  which  I  had  erected  a  black  cross,  marking  the 
grave  of  murdered  hopes.  The  evening  was  cold  and  wet.  A 
drizzling  rain  had  been  falling  since  noon,  at  which  time  we 
expected  the  travellers.  Dinner,  delayed  two  hours,  was  at 
length  served  up,  and  went  away  untasted.  My  aunt  soon  resigned 
the  hope  of  seeing  her  nephew  that  day  ;  and  should  the  mist 
thicken  into  a  storm,  they  would,  she  thought,  be  detained  for 
the  remainder  of  the  week  in  whatever  quarters  they  had  found 
shelter.  My  father's  more  hopeful  disposition  argued  differently. 

"  Unless  one  of  them  was  sick,  they  started  from this 

morning  while  it  was  fair,"  he  represented,  "  and  it  is  not  like 
Edmund  to  heed  weather.  They  have  a  comfortable  conveyance, 
and  are  perhaps  hindered  by  the  miserable  state  of  the  roads 
I  shall  not  give  them  up  before  dark." 

My  faith  in  his  son's  perseverance  or  my  desire  to  see  bim  and 
his  companion  was  less  strong  than  his,  and  deeming  it  uselesi 


198  MOSS-SIDE. 

and  imprudent  to  join  his  lookout  at  the  front  door,  after  ont 
glance  at  the  chilling  fog-folds  that  dimmed  the  nearest  trees,  1 
went  up  to  my  sanctum,  now  as  perfect  a  "  Growlery"  as  Mr. 
Jarndyce  would  have  had  people  believe  his.  Upon  my  lounge, 
then,  I  established  myself  with  the  selfish  congratulation — "  One 
more  quiet  night  I" 

"  What  influenced  me  to  send  for  this  child  ?"  I  questioned 
myself  for  the  hundredth  time.  "  Was  it  not  that  I  courted 
still  heavier  burdens  than  those  under  which  I  am  bending  ;  a 
casting  down  of  the  gauntlet  to  the  Destiny  they  may  call  Fate, 
Providence — what  they  will — that  appears  intent  upon  overcom- 
ing me  ?  A  most  Christian-like  motive  1  this  is  sisterly  affec- 
tion !  but  I  do  not  affect  to  be  guided  by  Christian  principles  ; 
I  ceased  to  be  a  sister  when  Frederic  died.  This  brother  I 
scarcely  know  :  I  pity  his  child  with  an  unloving  pity  ;  yet  I 
remember  her  as  an  engaging  little  creature  five  years  ago.  I 
will  be  kind  to  her,  for  I  am  not  inhuman — win  upon  my  affec- 
tions she  never  can.  There  is  nothing  there  to  lay  hold  upon. 
"  My  lovable  sister  V  Edmund  wrote  in  unconscious  irony. 
How  could  he  guess  that  I  have  grown  to  be  the  antipodes  of 
the  girl  he  last  saw  me  ?  He  may  object  to  leaving  his  daugh- 
ter with  me  when  he  sees  the  change.  This  will  disappoint  my 
father,  for  I  foresee  that  she  will  usurp  my  old  place  with  him. 
To  me  it  will  be  neither  mortifying  nor  distressing  ;  I  have 
done  my  duty  in  consenting  to  her  parent's  request,  and  shall 
not  object  to  his  removing  her  from  a  baneful  neighborhood." 

I  s.\id  this  out  mentally,  without  a  tear  or  a  shudder.  I  hon 
estly  considered  myself  impervious  to  further  suffering,  incapable 
of  forming  other  attachments.  This  hardening  of  heart  and  zon 
science  is  the  legitimate  effect  of  an  egotism  of  sorrow,  and  this 
luxury  I  had  feasted  upon  to  the  utmost.  I  was  firm  in  ihc 
belief  that  I  hated  myself,  while  by  a  perverse  contradiction,  mj 
dismal  delight  was  in  the  contemplation  of  the  woes  linked  in, 


MOSS-SIDE.  199 

identified  with  my  being.  I  had  been  upon  my  feet  the  greater 
part  of  the  day,  and  was  more  than  tired  of  waiting  ;  so,  rolling 
myself  op  comfortably  in  my  deliciously  sombre  fantasies,  I  dozed 
gradually  into  a  confirmed  slumber. 

I  was  aroused  by  a  noise  at  my  door,  as  of  some  one  opening 
it  with  care. 

"  Is  supper  ready,  Martha?"  I  inquired,  not  raising  my  head; 
for  sh%  of  all  the  household,  moved  so  noiselessly. 

A  rustling  passed  around  the  head  of  my  couch;  and  between 
me  and  the  fire  stood  a  diminutive  figure  with  short,  fair  ring' 
lets,  blue  eyes  and  skin  dazzlingly  white  above  her  black  dress. 
This  hue  alone  precluded  the  idea  of  a  supernatural  visitation, 
and  my  brain,  cloudy  with  sleep,  did  not  at  first,  wholly  scout 
the  possibility  of  such  an  appearance. 

"  Who  are  you  ?"  I  said,  confusedly,  half  rising. 

"  I  am  Lilly  Leigh.  Grandpapa  told  me  I  should  find  Aunt 
Grace  in  here." 

She  stood  quite  still,  her  hands  behind  her  back,  and  gazed 
steadfastly  at  me,  neither  abashed  nor  forward. 

"  I  am  your  Aunt  Grace,"  I  said.  "  Will  you  come  and  kiss 
me?" 

She  advanced  promptly,  pursed  up  her  mouth  ;  demurely  per- 
formed the  salute,  ai.d  retreated  to  her  former  stand-point. 

"  When  did  you  get  here  ?"  was  my  next  question. 

"  A  short  while  ago." 

"  Is  your  father  down  stairs  ?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

I  could  not  help  smiling  at  the  prim  gravity  of  her  childifb 
ace  ;  and  she  stepped  nearer  to  me,  encouraged  by  the  gleam. 

"  Shall  we  go  down  and  see  him  ?"  said  I 

"  It'  you  please,  ma'am." 

I  took  her  hand.  She  clung  to  me  as  we  entered  the  pas 
eage. 


200  M  O  8  8  -  S  I  D  E  . 

"  Are  you  afraid  ?"  I  asked  her. 

"  Not  exactly,"  in  a  whisper  ;  "  but  I  do  not  like  the  dark 
rery  well." 

In  the  lower  entry,  she  stopped,  shook  out  her  apron,  and 
tried  ineffectually  to  smooth  her  curls. 

"  I  have  been  riding  all  day,  you  know,"  she  apologized.  "  1 
am  afraid  papa  will  shake  his  head  at  me." 

"  I  will  attend  to  that,"  I  assured  her,  whereat  she  was  com- 
forted to  follow  me  to  my  aunt's  room 

My  brother  said  nothing  at  meeting  me  ;  only  put  his  arm 
over  my  shoulder,  as  Frederic  used  to  do,  and  embraced  mt. 
tenderly.  When  he  trusted  his  voice  to  ask  after  my  health,  min» 
was  low  and  tremulous.  The  brothers  had  seldom  been  thought1 
alike  during  the  lifetime  of  the  younger,  but  the  resemblance  of 
feature  and  tone  touched  me  now,  as  I  had  boasted,  an  hour 
before,  nothing  could  ever  do  again. 

My  father  came  to  my  help.  Lilly,  by  his  directions,  had  paid 
her  respects  to  her  great-aunt  pretty  much  after  the  precise 
fashion  of  her  introduction  to  me,  and  now  occupied  bis  knee 

"  Did  our  tiny  witch  here  surprise  you  ?"  he  inquired. 

"  I  was  asleep,  sir,  when  she  came  up,  and  mistook  her  for  a 
real  witch,"  I  replied. 

Her  teeth  shone  through  the  parting  lips  for  a  second,  and 
her  eyes  sparkled  with  amusement  j  then  the  lids  dropped  mo- 
iestly. 

"  It  was  a  stroke  of  dramatic  effect  for  which  I  am  disposed 
to  applaud  myself,"  my  father  went  on  to  say.  "  I  judged  that 
the  slight  bustle  of  arrival  was  unheard  in  your  room,  and,  when 
I  at  last  discovered  a  living  Lilly  in  the  bundle  of  cloaks,  shawli 
and  hoods,  I  carried  her  up  to  your  door,  unfastened  it  and  slip 
ped  her  in." 

The  small  lady's  behavior  at  supper,  and  while  her  seniors  di» 
coursed  afterwards,  justified  her  father's  account  of  her  training 


MOSS-SIDE.  201 

A.  chJd's  chair,  a  remnant  of  my  nnrsery  furniture,  bad  been 
provided  for  her,  and  planting  it  under  her  grandfather's  elbow, 
she  sat  mute  as  a  mouse  ;  looking  much  of  the  time  straight 
into  the  fire,  wide  awake  with  the  novelty  of  her  situation, 
»ud  the  need  she  felt  of  comporting  herself  with  the  utmost 
decorum.  I  marvelled  what  busied  her  infantile  brain,  for  there 
was  intelligence  in  the  large  eyes.  She  was  an  object  of  curios- 
ity to  me,  some  almost  forgotten  reminiscences  of  my  own  child- 
hood being  all  the  key  I  had  in  the  unfamiliar  study  presented 
to  me.  I  hoped  devoutly  that  she  was  not  one  of  the  pattern 
children  (I  had  nearly  written  patent !)  so  extolled  by  parents 
and  friends.  Would  she  ever  wear  high-necked  aprons,  hunt 
hens'  nests  and  climb  cherry  trees,  in  which  exciting  pastimes  my 
father  abetted  me,  to  the  horror  of  my  staid  aunt  ?  Could  she 
laugh  aloud  and  stretch  those  white-stockinged,  trim  ankles  in 
races  upon  the  lawn  with  the  frolicsome  pup  her  thoughtful 
grandfather  had  purchased  for  her  ?  Would  she  always  know 
her  lessons  ;  never  drop  books  and  abridge  the  hours  for  practis- 
ing scales  an.d  exercises,  to  chase  butterflies  and  string  jessamine 
necklace  ?  I  would  not  have  said  it,  even  to  myself,  but  I  did 
not  dissent  from  my  father's  remark,  "  Lilly  will  break  in  accep- 
tably upon  our  monotony,  Edmund.  Old  things  and  the  spirit 
of  past  days  have  held  sway  here  a  tedious  time.  She  will  act 
like  an  infusion  of  fresh  blood  upon  our  domestic  system." 

Rapid,  scarlet  blood  it  was  that  dyed  her  cheeks  at  this  men 
tion  of  herself,  which  I  had  not  supposed  she  would  understand. 
The  same  happy  smile  that  had  lighted  her  face  before,  flitted 
over  it,  and  she  inclined  her  head  towards  the  caressing  hand 
that  met  its  flaxen  profusion.  Once  only,  she  quitted  her  scat 
before  the  summons  to  bed.  My  father  had  opened  the  Bible 
ror  prayers,  and  I  arose  to  place  my  aunt's  stand  before  her.  lo 
doing  this,  I  accidentally  struck  against  her  footstool.  Lilly 
flashed  across  the  rug — no  other  word  can  express  the  motion  — 
9* 


202  MOBS-SIDE. 

and  replaced  it  before  I  could  stoop  to  repair  my  carelessness, 
and  was  as  speedily  back  in  her  corner,  grave  and  still,  as  befit- 
ted the  approaching  service.  My  father  looked  surprised  and 
gratified,  Edmund  gratified  merely  ;  but  he  did  not  commend  her 
for  this  or  anything  else,  by  word.  A  glance  of  approval  and  a 
frown  from  "  Papa  "  were  her  highest  meed  of  praise,  her  sever- 
est punishment. 

I  fancied  that  she  would  have  avoided  Martha,  when  she  of- 
fered to  undress  her,  and  making  some  excuse  for  dispensing  with 
her  services,  I  myself  unfastened  and  drew  off  the  clothes  that 
seemed  ridiculously  small  to  my  unpractised  fingers,  as  they 
passed  lingeringly,  with  a  pleasurable  thrill,  along  the  dimpled 
shoulders,  the  rounded  limbs. 

II  Shall  I  lift  you  into  bed  ?"  I  asked,  when  the  night-dress 
was  tied  and  the  ringlets  combed  out. 

"  Not  just  yet,  if  you  please,  Aunt  Grace,"  and  the  clear  tre- 
ble faltered  in  greater  embarrassment  than  she  had  before 
displayed. 

"  Is  there  anything  you  would  like  to  have  ?"  I  said,  as  gently 
as  I  could. 

"  May  I — will  you  let  me  read  one  chapter  in  my  Bible  ?"  her 
eyes  more  pleading  than  her  timid  voice. 

"  Certainly,"  I  said,  but  I  was  none  too  well  pleased  with 
the  request.  This  had  been  one  of  my  childish  customs  also  ;  a 
duty  rigidly  adhered  to  by  my  aunt  in  her  own  practice,  and 
as  rigidly  exacted  of  me.  I  retained  a  vivid  impression  of  the 
smarting  eyes  which  would  not  be  rubbed  open  ;  the  drowsy 
wanderings  that  interpolated  the  sacred  text ;  the  downright 
slumbers  that  sometimes  concluded  the  exercise,  while  my 
guardian  pored  with  undisturbed  attention  over  the  prosy 
commentary  I  hated  so  heartily. 

"  I  am  afraid  she  is  a  pattern  miss  ! "  I  said  peevishly  tc 
myse!f.  "  \  had  rather  she  were  a  downright  miscreant  whc 


M  O  S  8-8  I  D  K.  203 

irould  gfve  such  piritanical  farces  the  go-by  whenever  she 
could  " 

She  did  not  nod  as  she  read — T  wished  she  had.  I  would 
hare  liked  her  better  for  the  lapse  into  baby-nature.  Nor  did 
she  peep  furtively  at  me  to  see  if  I  were  observing  her  pre- 
cocious piety.  The  psalm  was  brief,  I  noti3ed  from  my  chair 
where  I  pretended  to  be  equally  engaged  with  a  novel  ;  but  sha 
was  in  no  haste  to  run  it  through.  When  it  was  done,  she 
returned  to  the  pages  a  bookmark,  embroidered  with  the  initials 
of  her  mother's  name  ;  and,  without  hesitation,  having  perhaps 
selected  the  spot  beforehand,  she  entered  the  narrow  space 
between  the  bed  and  the  wall,  find  knelt  down.  I  reached  for- 
ward and  secured  the  book  she  had  left  upon  the  table.  It  was 
boand  handsomely,  without  any  tinsel  filigree-work,  and  upon 
the  fly-leaf  was  written — " Lilias  Leigh — From  her  Mother" 
"  Remember  now  thy  Creator  in  the  days  of  thy  youth."  "  When 
thy  father  and  thy  mother  forsake  thee,  then  the  Lord  will  takt 
thee*up."—Nav.  "15th,  18—." 

The  recent  date,  the  tremulous  chirography  told  the  affecting 
story,  I  subsequently  learned  from  the  daughter.  It  was  a 
mother's  latest  gift ;  the  inscription  was  penned  upon  a  death- 
bed. Cut  to  the  soul  for  my  uncharitable  strictures  upon  what 
I  had  chosen  to  construe  into  an  ostentation  of  goodness,  I  put 
the  volume  back,  as  she  issued  from  her  hiding-place.  Her  eye- 
lashes were  moist  and  her  countenance  very  pensive. 

"  I  am  ready  now,  aunt/'  she  said,  "  but  I  am  too  heavy  for 
you  to  lift.  If  you  will  show  me  where  I  am  to  sleep,  I  can  g  t 
into  bed  by  myself." 

1  replied  by  taking  her  light  weight  in  my  arms  and  deposit 
!ng  it  in  the  feathered  nest  she  hardly  indented. 

"  I  will  be  with  you  presently,"  said  I.  "  Yon  d,  not  feh,r  to 
lie  alone  for  a  minute  or  two,  do  you  ?" 

"N},  ma'am.  I  am  very  ranch  obliged  to  you,"  and  she 
turned  her  cheek  to  the  pillow,  1  supposed  to  sleep. 


204:  MOSS-SIDE. 

There  was  no  movement  from  her  when  I  lay  lown.  It 
occurred  to  me  that  she  was  unnaturally  quiet,  and  I  abated  my 
breathing  to  listen  for  hers.  It  was  muffled  and  not  regular,  as 
in  healthy  slumber,  and  the  strange  suppression  troubled  me. 
Not  to  lose  a  sound,  I  imitated  her  stillness,  and  she,  mon 
readily  deceived,  no  doubt,  believed  my  unconsciousness  real. 
A  choking  sob  escaped  her  ;  then  a  plaintive  cry,  imperfectly 
smothered — and  the  flood-gate  was  raised.  She  wept  bitterly, 
though  not  loudly  ;  her  frame  heaving  with  woman-like  agony, 
indescribably  painful  in  the  mere  infant  she  seemed.  Before  the 
warm,  sweeping  tide,  the  snow  and  ice  I  had  labored  to  pile 
around  my  heart,  dissolved.  If  one  atom  of  humanity  still  sur 
vived  within  me,  this  child-woe  must  have  developed  it  into 
growth. 

And  in  the  haste  of  my  anxiety  to  alleviate  her  distress,  I 
called  her  by  a  name  I  had  sternly  vowed  should  never  be 
uttered  again  by  my  lips  ;  the  sweetest  of  Love's  appellations  ; 
the  title  he  had  given  me  in  the  bliss  of  our  soul-union — in  the 
throes  of  our  soul-parting — a  word  as  holy  to  me  as  the  memory 
of  his  love. 

"  Darling !"  I  said,  drawing  her  towards  me.  ''  What  i> 
the  matter  ?  Tell  aunt  Grace  1" 

She  nestled  in  my  arms,  like  a  lost,  frightened  bird.  "  Mam- 
ma 1  mamma  1  I  want  my  dear  mamma  1" 

I  covered  the  hot  little  face  with  tears  and  kla^s,  my  bosom 
swelling  against  hers. 

"  My  poor  babe  1"  was  all  I  could  say. 

"  I  can't  help  crying  sometimes,  Aunt  Grace  1"  she  sobbed, 
mistaking  the  cause  of  my  silence.  "I  miss  her  so  much  at 
ight  1"  and  repeating  the  beloved  name,  she  wept  afresh. 

"Ther3l  Lilly  dear  I"  I  soothed.  "She  is  happy  now  ic 
Heaven." 

"  Then  1  wish  I  was  there  too !"  she  exclaimed,  impeta 
ously 


MOSS-SIDE.  20ft 

"  Hash  !  hush  I  that  is  wrong,  Lilly  1" 

"  Why,  Aunt  Grace  ?  I  know  she  wants  me  as  bad  as  1  do 
her." 

I  was  nonplussed  for  an  answer  to  this,  and  evaded  it. 

"  Would  you  leave  your  papa  ?  Think  how  lonely  he  would 
ft*.' 

"  I  cannot  live  with  him,  he  says,"  she  replied. 

My  ill-judged  consolation  must  be  amended.  "  Not  now,  per- 
haps, dear,  but  one  of  these  days  he  will  come  back  for  you,  and 
until  he  is  ready  to  take  you  to  his  home,  you  will  stay  here 
with  us " — and,  some  inspiration  dictating  to  me — "  I  will  be 
your  mother." 

The  violent  sobbing  ceased.  "  Will  you  ?"  said  she,  with 
breathless  eagerness — "  and  will  you  love  me  and  call  n?e  yom 
'  little  Lilly  ?'  Yon  did  not  look  to-night  as  if  you  ever  would." 

"You  shall  see,"  I  replied,  confidently.  "  Can  my  little  Lilly 
sleep  now  ?" 

"  If  you  will  kiss  me,  I  will  try." 

With  her  hands  folded  in  mine  upon  my  breast,  her  pure 
breath  flowing  over  my  cheek,  I  watched  out  the  hours  until 
the  hoarse  clangor  of  the  clock  rang  in  the  day  of — "  Peace  on 
earth,  good-will  to  men  \n  The  stilly  midnight,  that  had  so  often 
waned  for  me  in  sleepless  wretchedness,  witnessed  the  birth  of 
an  unknown  feeling,  the  feeble  upstarting  of  the  gent 
implanted  most  deeply — latest  uprooted  in  woman — the  yearn- 
ing, tireless,  immortal  principle  of  maternal  affection. 

My  Christmas  gift  was  astir  betimes  on  the  morrow.  She  was 
wonderfully  metamorphosed — the  others  said  by  the  night's  rest 
Some  tincture  of  shy  propriety  showed  itself  at  intervals,  but 
the  air  of  strangeness  to  things  and  people  was  modified  into 
the  ease  of  a  guest,  who,  although  not  altogether  at  home,  fcela 
that  he  is  welcome  to  his  friend's  house.  The  volatile  mercury 
of  youth  had  risen  superior  to  its  late  depression,  but  ste  had 


'206  M  4  8  8  •  8  1  D  E  . 

not  forgotten  the  scene,  or  the  compact  that  closed  it.  Me,  sh« 
accepted  as  her  protector  and  guide  in  the  weighty,  as  in  the 
minute  affairs  of  the  day,  but  without  quoting  her  authority  for 
the  adoption.  Aunt  Grace  was  now  "  Auntie,"  and  in  process 
of  time,  "Auntie  dear" — sweetly-toned  syllables,  to  which  my 
heart  would  have  pulsated  in  the  moment  of  dissolution. 

Excepting  hers,  there  could  be  no  "  Merry  Christmas."  among 
the  white  family  at  Moss-side  ;  but  the  servants  considered 
downcast  visages  positive  sacrilege  upon  their  grand  carnival 
Their  presents  had  been  prepared,  in  obedience  to  their  master's 
unselfish  will,  but  I  had  designed  to  appoint  my  maid  almoner 
in  my  stead.  Lilly's  lively  interest  in  the  juvenile  Ethiopians, 
to  her  as  unwonted  a  spectacle  as  would  have  been  a  crowd  of 
young  monkeys,  chattering  English,  suggested  another  substi- 
tute. The  morning  was  unfavorable  for  out-door  parades,  and 
the  distribution  took  place  in  the  dining-room.  Joe,  in  all  the 
splendor  of  a  tall  shirt-collar  and  a  buckram  stock,  deigned  to 
officiate  in  his  capacity  of  Chief  Marshal  ;  directing  his  main  en- 
ergies to  the  initiation  of  his  troop  in  the  use  of  the  scraper  and 
door-mat.  My  aunt  occupied  her  chair  by  the  fireside  ;  my  fa- 
ther and  brother  surveyed  the  array  from  the  background. 

Lilly's  was  the  centre  figure.  Her  feet  twinkled,  rather  than 
stepped,  from  end  to  end  of  the  huge  basket,  and  her  eyes 
danced  yet  more  merrily  ;  from  her  wind-blown  curls  to  the  tips 
of  her  restless  toes,  every  nerve  was  alive  with  enjoyment.  I 
called  the  destined  owner  of  each  article,  as  she  exhibited  it, 
and  if  I  were  occasionally  backward  in  my  duty,  it  was  that  I 
might  have  the  secret  delight  of  hearing  her  silvery — "  Auntie 
dear  1"  a  reminder  spoken  anxiously,  if  I  appeared  abstracted, 
but  never  impatiently.  There  was  a  native  grace  in  her  mannef 
of  presenting  the  gifts  that  awoke  audible  murmurs  of  applause 
from  the  older  servants,  who  were  lookers  on  in  the  doors  and 
hall,  and  elicited  her  father's  proudest  smile.  Catching  every 


M088-BIDE.  ii 

name  as  I  pronounced  it,  she  addressed  the  one  who  answered, 
as  she  transferred  whatever  she  held  to  his  possession,  ana  sub 
Joined  some  observation  she  deemed  appropriate. 

"  Julius,"  she  would  remark,  "  this  is  a  fine  humming-top  !  ! 
dare  say  you  can  make  it  go  nicely." 

"  Mary,  see  what  a  beauty  of  a  doll  1  almost  as  large  as  yon 
»rc — and  the  best  of  it  is,  she  will  not  break  if  you  let  hef 
fall." 

"  Why,  Jimmy  !"  tc  a  wee  fellow  who  was  led  up  by  his  lar- 
ger sister  ;  "  here  is  a  great  horse — all  of  gingerbread  !  enough 
to  last  you  a  week.'? 

"  This,  Auntie  dear  ?"  picking  up  from  the  bottom  of  the 
hamper  a  dandyish  cane,  varnished  black,  with  a  gay  cord  and 
tassel  at  the  head. 

"  That  is  for  Joe,"  I  said. 

The  colored  exquisite  bowed  up  the  room,  and  almost  pros- 
trated himself  as  he  received  this  finishing  touch  to  his  Sunday 
suit. 

"  It  is  very  becoming,  Joe,"  said  Lilly,  archly — a  nai've  satire 
that  provoked  us  all  to  laughter.  Joe's  good-nature  and  conceit 
forbade  him  to  see  aught  but  a  compliment  in  this  speech,  and 
he  replied  with  a  volley  of  thanks  and  praises. 

"  The  flatteries  of  the  season  to  you,  Miss  Lilias,"  was  the 
peroration — "  to  your  most  worthiest  pa  ;  my  reserved  master  ; 
my  respectful  Miss  Agnes,  and  admiring  Miss  Grace.  Long  may 
you  live  and  reign  in  this  tabernacle,  whar  we  have  the  pleasure 
of  beholding  you  now,  and  when  you  leave  it  for  a  more  happier 
home  of  your  own,  may  I,  Joe  the  butler,  be  honored  by  waitin' 
'pon  your  flourishing  table  1" 

The  iris  of  Lilly's  blue  orbs  was  amply  relieved  by  a  white 
ring  around  them,  when  he  was  through.  She  was  self-possessed 
enough  to  say,  "  Thank  you,  Joe  1"  seeing  that  he  waited  for  an 
answer,  and  somewhat  sobered,  walked  back  to  her  father,  whose 


208  MOSS-SIDE. 

amusemen,  banished  the  melancholy  from  his  brow,  as  he  set  her 
npon  his  knee. 

"  Auntie,"  she  whispered,  touching  my  arm,  and  motioning  me 
to  bend  my  ear,  that  the  query  might  not  wound  "  the  butler," 
who  was  bustling  about  us — "  Did  he  mean  that  he  want*  tr 
wait  on  my  table  when  I  go  to  Heaven  ?* 


MOBS-BIDE  209 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

MR.  PEYTON  brought  with  him  to  dinner  a  visitoi  and  a  name- 
Bake  of  his  own — Peyton  Elliott — a  fine  lad  )f  fourteen.  He  was 
the  son  of  an  intimate  friend  of  his  host,  who,  in  consideration 
of  the  loneliness  of  Linden,  often  lent  the  boy  to  his  godfathe' 
for  days  or  weeks,  as  the  case  might  be. 

I  had  dressed  Lilly  in  a  black  silk  frock,  edged  upon  the 
Bhoulders  and  sleeves  with  lawn  frills,  and  its  sombreness  further 
mitigated  by  worked  pantalettes,  very  full,  which  granted  but  a 
tantalizing  glimpse  of  the  pretty  feet  they  shaded.  I  do  not  like 
to  see  children  wear  mourning  any  more  than  I  like  to  see  the 
morning  sun  overtaken  by  storm-clouds  ;  but  she  was  passing 
fair  in  her  sad-colored  robes.  She  stood  by  me,  as  Mr.  Peyton 
and  his  charge  entered,  and  the  regards  of  both  were  instantly 
riveted. 

"  She  is  strikingly  like  her  mother,"  said  the  former  aside  to 
me,  as  he  held,  in  his  kind  way,  the  hand  she  gave  him.  "  Where 
is  her  father  ?" 

"  He  will  be  in  directly.  You  will  find  him  much  changed, 
Mr.  Peyton." 

"  I  look  for  that,  Grace — I  look  for  that !  No  man  knowg 
better  what  he  has  gone  through  than  I  do — no  man  I" 

He  was  fluttering  the  leaves  of  a  book,  taken  up  at  random,, 
from  the  table.  Well  acquainted  with  his  mood,  I  tet  him 
alone. 

"  Do  you  remember  "  — he  resumed  as  ramblingly.    "  No  I  you 


213  M08S-8IDE. 

were  very  young  —not  larger  than  that  little  niece  of  yours 
there — but  you  may  have  some  recollection  of  when  Edmund 
was  married." 

"  I  recollect  it  perfectly,"  I  said. 

"  There  was  great  feasting  here  then.  A  lovely  woman  sha 
was — a  lovely  woman  !  I  was  at  the  dinner  party,  the  firs* 
given  him — the  last  Mary  ever  attended — the  very  last !  It 
runs  constantly  in  my  mind  to-day — constantly  1" 

He  never  named  his  wife  except  in  conversation  with  those 
upon  whose  friendship  and  sympathy  he  was  certain  he  could 
rely,  for  he  was  not  a  man  to  unlock  to  the  world  the  depository 
)f  his  most  sacred  feelings. 

"  I  studied  the  question  of  coming  over  to-day  for  a  whole 
hour,"  he  said. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Peyton  ?  Could  you  doubt  what  reception  you 
would  find,  however  circumstanced  we  might  be  ?" 

"  That  was  not  it,  Grace.  I  thought  Edmund  might  suffer 
more  for  seeing  me — that  was  all  !  You  don't  need  to  be  told 
what  it  would  cost  me  to  stay  away  from  your  table  on  Christ- 
mas-day." 

My  brother  interrupted  us.  With  unfinished  salutations  fall- 
ing from  their  tongues,  they  wrung  each  other's  hands  until  the 
nails  were  white  with  the  pressure,  then  sat  down  in  adjoining 
chairs,  and  tried  to  chat  with  the  freedom  of  "  lang  syne." 

"  Lang  syne  I"  The  words  sighed  through  my  soul  in  pathetic 
minor  cadences,  such  as  the  wind  breathes  in  autumn  nights 
among  the  tall  grass  of  grave  yards.  By  the  gravitation  of 
habit,  my  mind  sank  into  the  slough  whose  quaking  depths  it 
had  come  to  make  its  home.  Wantonly  I  recalled  each  souvenir 
of  another  Christmas-day  ;  mustered  every  joy  that  blent  in  the 
glorious  halo  which  begirt  its  memory  ;  not  to  win  forgetfulness 
of  the  darkness  that  followed,  but  to  compare  the  picture  with 
the  present ;  to  change  Eden  at  a  stroke  into  a  ruined  garden, 


MOSS-BIDE.  211 

aalf-ripe  fruit  hanging  blighted  upon  the  dry  boughs — 1'or  music, 
the  plaining  of  mateless  birds  over  empty  nests. 

A  touch  upon  my  knee  disturbed  my  reverie. 

"  Auntie,"  said  Lilly,  seeing  that  she  had  aroused  me  "  That 
little  boy  looks  lonesome.  What  can  I  get  to  amuse  aim  ?  It 
Is  too  wet  to  play  out-of-doors." 

Her  patronizing  air  was  laughable  when  I  surveyed  the  young 
gentleman  whose  forlorn  condition  she  commiserated.  A  manly 
fellow,  older  than  herself  by  five  years,  and  nearly  twice  her 
height,  for  her  stature  had  not  kept  pace  with  her  intellect — the 
"little  boy"  would  have  been  diverted  or  chagrined  by  the 
implication  of  her  seniority.  She  was  in  very  sober  earnest,  and 
in  reply  to  my  advice  that  she  should  go  and  talk  with  him, 
objected  in  the  same  cautious  undertone  :  "  But  1  can't  think  of 
anything  to  say.  I  don't  know  anybody  that  he  does,  or  where 
he  lives.  I  wish  I  did,  for  I  do  feel  very  sorry  for  him." 

"  Where  is  the  book  of  engravings  grandpapa  gave  you  this 
morning  ?"  I  inquired.  "  Maybe  he  is  fond  of  pictures." 

Her  eyes  lighted  up.  "  He  won't  think  me  bold  if  I  begin  to 
talk  to  him,  will  he  ?" 

"  By  no  means.     It  is  your  duty  to  entertain  him  in  your  own 


She  departed,  satisfied,  in  quest  of  the  stepping-stone  to  the 
acquaintance.  The  book  was  a  folio  volume,  but  she  returned, 
carrying  it  dexterously,  so  as  not  to  appear  to  require  assist 
ance. 

Peyton  got  up  to  take  it  from  her. 

"  No,  thank  you  !"  said  she.  "  I  can  hold  it.  Aunt  Gruct 
thought  you  would  like  to  see  some  pictures,  and  these  are  new 
and  pretty  ones." 

She  graciously  awarded  him  permission  to  spread  it  open  upon 
the  centre- table  and  draw  up  seats.  He  was  gallant  without 
Dreteusion,  and  entered  upon  the  inspeition  of  the  prints  with  a 


212  MOSS-BIDE. 

flattering  show  of  interest.  I  forgot  my  dreaming  iu  watching 
them,  and  I  saw,  one  by  one,  the  others  present  glance  at  them 
with  significant  smiles.  Lilly's  voice  was  never  shrill  or  loud, 
but  her  utterance  became  quicker,  the  inflections  more  varied 
and  expressive  as  they  went  deeper  into  the  book.  Engaged 
herself,  heart  and  soul  in  her  employment,  she  had  no  perception 
for  the  stolen  gaze  her  companion,  ever  and  anon,  bestowed  upon 
her  kindling  face  ;  no  suspicion  that  he  coaxed  her  to  more 
detailed  explanations  to  hear  her  talk,  not  to  gain  the  informs 
tion  she  artlessly  supplied.  Unperceived  by  her,  I  sauntered  to 
the  back  of  her  perch.  The  plate  under  examination  was  the 
overthrow  of  Pharaoh's  host  in  the  Red  Sea. 

"  What  is  it  ?"  asked  Peyton  hi  pretended  ignorance.  "  A 
freshet?" 

Lilly  was  too  polite  to  laugh,  or  speak  her  surprise  at  his 
deficiency  of  Biblical  lore. 

"  0,  no  !  that  is — not  a  freshet  in  a  river.  You  remember 
the  story  of  how  the  Israelites  got  out  of  the  land  of  Egypt — the 
ten  plagues  and  all  that." 

"  Not  very  well,  I  believe,"  rejoined  the  embryo  diplomatist. 
"  Tell  me  more." 

"  God  sent  plagues  upon  the  Egyptians  until  Pharaoh  was 
willing  to  let  the  children  of  Israel  go,"  pursued  she,  still  shun- 
ning any  appearance  of  superior  knowledge.  "  They  came  off"  in 
the  night — '  six  hundred  thousand  men,  besides  women  and 
children.' " 

"They  must  have  had  hard  work  marching  in  the  dark," 
interposed  Peyton.  "  Didn't  some  of  them  get  lost  ?" 

"  No  ;  they  couldn't,  you  know,  for  the  pillar  of  fire  went 
traight  before  them  the  whole  night  and  showed  them  the  way. 
They  travelled  pretty  well  until  morning,  and  then  was  the  try- 
ing tune  1  The  wicked  king  was  sorry  he  had  let  them  go  out 
of  his  country,  and  started  after  them  with  a  great  army,  horse- 


MOSS-SIDE.  213 

men  and  chariots — the  best  soldiers  he  had.  He  came  in  sight 
of  them  just  as  they  reached  the  Ked  Sea,  and  you  see  there  was 
a  mountain  on  this  side,  and  one  on  that " — pointing  to  the  pic- 
ture— "  the  Egyptians  were  behind  them  and  the  deep  water 
before  them  " 

<l  Decidedly  a  ticklish  situation  !"  commented  the  listener. 

"  Yes  ;  and  the  poor  Israelites  thought  so  too.  They  began 
to  quarrel  with  Moses,  the  good  man  who  had  done  so  much  for 
them,  for  bringing  them  away  from  their  homes  to  be  killed  or 
drowned  ;  and  he  prayed  to  God  to  help  them.  And  the  Lord 
told  him  not  to  stop  to  call  even  upon  Hun,  but  to  tell  the  peo« 
pie  to  go  forward." 

"  How  could  they  ?"  said  Peyton.  "  Were  they  to  step  right 
into  the  water  ?" 

"  Ah  !  but  it  was  not  their  business  to  ask  Him  any  ques- 
tions !  He  said,  Go  forward  P  and  He  would  not  have  ordered 
them  to  do  it,  if  He  had  not  meant  to  help  them  through  their 
trouble.  Don't  you  recollect  about  Abraham,  when  he  thought 
he  would  be  obliged  to  kill  his  son  ?  and  Jacob,  whose  brother 
met  him  so  kindly  because  God  had  put  it  into  his  heart  to  do 
so  ?  Well,  the  next  thing  that  happened  was  that  the  pillar  of 
fire  moved  backwards  and  settled  down  right  between  the 
Israelites  and  their  enemies. 

"  Why,  I  should  think  they  would  have  gone  back  too,"  said 
Peyton  ;  "  they  were  to  follow  it  every  way— were  they  not  ?" 

"  Not  when  they  had  been  told  to  '  go  forward  P  "  replied  the- 
monitress,  with  emphasis.  "  Then  the  Egyptians  could  not  see 
through  the  cloud,  for  it  was  a  cloud  to  them  ;  and  Mosea 
stretched  out  his  rod  over  the  water,  and  it  divided  and  stood 
ap  in  two  high  walls,  with  a  great,  wide,  dry  road  in  the  mid- 
lie." 

"  A  dry  road  !"  exclaimed  the  dissembler  ;  "  when  the  watoi 
*  as  there  one  minute  before  ?" 


214  MOSS-SIDE. 

1  Yes  !  a  dry  road  !"  retorted  Lilly,  firmly  ;  "just  as  dry  as 
this  carpet,  for  the  wee  bits  of  children  went  over  '  dry-shod ' 
God  can  do  anything.  He  could  have  dried  up  the  sea  entirety 
if  He  had  pleased.  It  was  not  like  man's  work.  His  people  go! 
tafely  to  the  other  side,  and  the  Egyptians  started  in  too,  stil 
chasing  them.  They  were,  maybe,  half  way  across,  when,  all  a 
once  the  waters  rolled  together  over  them,  and  swallowed  then: 
up.  That  must  be  Pharaoh  himself  in  that  fine  chariot,  with 
the  crown  on  his  head.  I  can't  help  wishing  he  had  not  gone 
in — poor  fellcw  I" 

"  You  called  him  a  wicked  king  awhile  ago.  Didn't  he  de- 
serve to  die  ?" 

"  I  suppose  so,  or  God  would  have  held  him  back  ;  but  I 
think  Moses  and  all  the  rest  of  the  Israelites  must  have  felt 
badly  to  see  the  whole  host,  every  one  of  them,  destroyed." 

I  would  not  check  her  prattle  by  being  detected  in  the  act  of 
eaves-dropping,  so  sought  my  seat. 

"  '  Except  ye  become  as  little  children—'  "  I  said  to  myself, 
as  their  tones  played  upon  my  ear.  "  That  child,  with  her 
unquestioning  faith,  hears  and  obeys  the  '  Go  forward  !'  of  reve- 
lation and  of  Providence,  while  I,  in  my  wilderness,  can  only 
stand  and  murmur  I"  and  wresting  the  infantine  teacher's  words 
from  their  original  application,  I  repeated,  "  the  Egyptians 
could  not  see  through  the  cloud,  for  it  was  a  cloud  to  them  1" 

Peyton  and  she  waxed  merrier  and  more  familiar,  and  the 
engravings  being  disposed  of,  she  tripped  over  to  me  whh  a 
second  petition. 

"  May  we  play  '  Graces '  in  the  hall,  Auntie  ?  We  will  b* 
rery  careful  not  to  strike  the  clock  or  windows." 

Their  laughing  voices,  and  the  clattering  of  the  hoops  and 
sticks  were  distinctly  heard  in  the  parlor,  and  cheered  the  sad 
dened  countenances  there. 

"  She  is  my  consolation,"  said  Edmund  to  his  friend 


M  O  8  8  •  8  I  D  E  .  215 

"  I  can  well  believe  it,"  was  the  reply.  "  My  house  .s  doubly 
gloomy  and  desolate  after  one  of  Peyton's  visits.  I  am  anxious 
to  adopt  him,  but  cannot  quite  gain  his  parent's  consent.  What 
can  be  more  inspiriting  and  home-like  than  the  patter  of  chil- 
'Ireu's  feet,  the  sound  of  children's  mirth  ?" 

"  As  enthusiastic  a  baby-lover  as  ever  !"  observed  Edmund 
'  I  must  make  interest  with  you  for  my  pet — constitute  you  spon- 
or  extraordinary,  when  I  go  away.  Not  that  I  doubt  her  hap- 
piness here;  still  less  do  I  fear  that  she  will  not  be  affectionately 
nurtured,  but  she  cannot  have  too  many  friends." 

"  I  have  one  daughter  here  now,"  said  Mr.  Peyton.  "  I 
raised  Grace,  and  am  very  proud  of  the  job,"  tapping  me  on  the 
head. 

"  You  have  slight  cause  for  this  vanity,"  I  returned. 

"  Well,  well  !  that  is  your  say.  Keep  your  opinion  and  I  will 
keep  mine.  The  best  wish  I  can  make  this  blossom  of  yours, 
Edmund,  is  that  she  may  grow  up  to  be  like  her  aunt." 

"  Heaven  forbid  I"  was  my  thought,  as  I  reflected  upon  the 
misery,  the  rank  poison-growth  he  innocently  invoked  for  her. 
And  more  like  a  prayer  than  anything  I  had  breathed  for 
months,  arose  the  wish  that  this  unpolluted  lily  might  be  saved 
from  the  mildew  and  worm  that  had  ravaged  my  heart,  and  a 
determination  that  so  far  as  in  me  lay,  she  should  be  spared 
even  the  knowledge  of  evil. 

A  swift  taunt  opposed  this  glimmering  of  desire.  "  How  can 
that  be  when  melancholy  faces  meet  her  at  every  turn  ?  when 
her  caresses  are  responded  to  in  solemn  taciturnity,  or  are  nu» 
noticed  in  the  absorbing  care  of  the  hour  ?  when  the  bosom, 
which  is  her  nightly  resting-place,  is  ever  convulsed  with  sigha 
or  cold  in  despair  ?  Is  this  house,  peopled  with  the  shades  of 
the  departed,  where,  from  hour  to  hour,  human  steps  uo?er 
resound,  a  fitting  habitation  for  this  gay  young  creature  ?" 

"  It  shall  be  I"    I  said.     "  If  it  be  a  cross  to  sacrifice  my 


216  MOSS-SIDE. 

habits  and  inclinations  to  secure  this  end,  I  accept  it.  I  have 
defied  hardship  before  in  mere  perversity  of  spirit.  I  invite  it 
now,  for  the  sake  of  another." 

In  the  might  of  this  resolution  I  worked  through  the  day, 
worked  hard,  and  so  far  as  others  were  concerned,  successfully. 
But  evening,  the  gathering  time  of  memories,  approached,  and 
aiy  tired  strength  began  to  waver.  It  was  raining  fast,  and  our 
guests  were  to  remain  with  us  through  the  night.  The  gloam- 
ing anticipated  the  usual  season  of  its  dusky  coming,  by  more 
than  an  hour.  My  aunt  had  retired  to  her  chamber  ;  in  the  sit- 
ting-room, my  father,  Edmund,  and  Mr.  Peyton  smoked  chi- 
bouques, and  talked  in  a  hum  no  louder  than  the  dropping  rain. 
Lilly  and  Peyton  were  kneeling  on  the  seat,  under  the  window, 
their  foreheads  against  the  glass,  counting  the  pools  in  the  yard 
and  the  trickling  streams  from  the  eaves. 

Whither  should  I  repair,  and  in  what  society,  except  to  toe 
Growlery,  and  alone — with  myself — Grace  Leigh,  and  her  oft- 
told  grievances  ?  The  humble  sofa  I  had  made  a  Procrustean 
bed,  the  rack  whereon  I  tossed  through  my  most  bitter  hours, 
was  in  readiness  ;  likewise  the  fire,  its  licking  flames  and  red-hot 
cavn-ns  furnishing  new  images  of  unrest  when  fancy  became 
jaded  ;  likewise  the  pale  portrait  over  the  mantel,  its  features 
untouched  by  years,  its  woe  changeless  ;  likewise  the  swarm  of 
stinging,  black-winged  thoughts,  awaiting  my  lying  down  to  set- 
tle upon  their  voluntary  prey.  There  were  enough  real  sorrows 
to  bow  me  earthward,  without  loading  myself  with  imaginary 
horrors  to  grind  me  into  the  dust.  Weak  and  wicked,  I  suffered 
them  all.  A  drowned  form,  with  sea-weed  matted  in  his  hair 
hands  clenched  in  the  death  agony,  was  borne  into  my  view 
and  the  sough  of  the  night  wind  was  the  wave  requiem.  Thei 
knelt  in  speechless  desolation  the  bride-widow,  her  nuptial 
robe  torn  off  to  make  way  for  sable  shroudings,  her  girlish 
beauty  destr  >yed  by  weeping  ;  weak,  trembling,  helples* — s'fcfl 


MOBS-SIDE.  217 

whom  Heaven  had  just  seemed  to  bless  with  the  best  of  earth's 
treasures.  Near  by,  his  face  averted  that  he  might  not  behold 
the  wreck  he  could  not  repair,  the  woe  no  mortal  balm  could 
assuage,  was  another  figure,  like  a  young  pine,  swayed  by  this 
resistless  storm;  the  friend,  who  had  snatched  my  brother's "bcdy 
from  the  exulting  billows,  who  had  poured  his  own  breath  into 
the  lungs  that  were  never,  alas  I  to  heave  again  ;  whose  hands 
had  composed  his  limbs  for  the  grave  and  helped  to  lay  him 
there  ;  whose  tears  had  flowed  for  him  and  for  us  ;  the  more 
than  brother  to  her— the  utterly  bereaved— her  advocate  and 
helper  ;  to  me  the  honorable  and  fervent  lover  of  my  girlhood  , 
the  constantly  mourned  of  every  hour  in  my  unhoping  Now  • 
who,  stainless  in  truth,  abiding  in  affection,  irreproachable  in 
thought  and  deed,  was,  nevertheless,  to  be  neither  brother, 
lover,  nor  friend  to  me  now,  nor  evermore.  The  beating  rain 
was  the  tramping  of  a  train  of  weeping  ghosts,  winding  rounci 
and  round  the  house,  bearing  the  ashes  of  Life's  most  precious 
things  in  mocking  honor  of  this— my  Christmas  festival  I 

"  Auntie,  dear,"  was  spoken  at  the  door.    "  May  I  come  in  ?'' 

"  Yes,  Lilly." 

She  rustled  past  the  head  of  the  lounge  as  upon  the  evening 
before,  but  instead  of  standing  aloof,  as  then,  she  crouched 
down  upon  the  floor,  leaned  her  elbow  upon  the  side  of  my 
cushions,  and  touched  my  brow  with  her  lips. 

"  Were  you  asleep  ?  do  I  disturb  yon  ?"  she  queried,  appre- 
hensively. 

"  No,  my  love.     I  like  to  have  you  here." 

She  played  with  the  rings  upon  my  fingers,  slipping  them  off 
5nd  on. 

"  I  was  lonesome,  Auntie,  and  came  to  look  for  you." 
51  j  heart  bounded.     Lonely  for  me !    Could  this  be  so  ? 
"  Where  is  Peyton/'  I  asked. 

"  I  left  him.  in  the  parlor.     I  am  tired  of  playing,  although  he 
10 


M088-8IDK 


fa  very  kind  and  funny.  Somehow,  I  do  not  feel  like  laughing 
and  talking  after  it  gets  dark  ;  and  so,  as  I  said,  I  was  lonesome, 
and  wanted  you.  I  love  yon,  Auntie  1"  pressing  her  soft  face 
ngainst  mine. 

Was  she  a  spirit  of  meroy?    Did  a  secret  magnetic  current 
pass  from  her  love-full  soul  to  mine,  worn  and  withered  ? 

•'  And  I  love  you,  darling  1"  I  cried,  catching  her  to  my 
breast  with  a  vehemence  that  almost  alarmed  her. 

"Auntie,"  she  commenced,  as  I  released  her,  "  may  I  talk  to 
you  about  my  dear  mamma  ?" 

"  If  it  will  not  make  you  too  sorrowful,  Lilly,"  fjr  the  big 
drops  in  her  eyes  were  sparkling  with  the  firelight. 

"  No,  ma'am—  at  least  I  will  try  not  to  cry,  for  she  asked  n 
to  remember  her  and  speak  of  her  sometimes,  and  not  to  fret 
papa  or  myself  by  thinking  that  she  was  dead,  but  to  believe 
that  she  was  very  near  me  when  I  was  good  and  loved  God"- 
"  What,  dear  1"  I  interrupted. 

"  She  hoped,  she  said,  that  He  would  let  her  watch  over  me 
when  I  was  a  poor,  motherless  child  ;  that  she  would  beg  Him 
to  make  her  my  '  ministering  angel.'  Do  you  think  He  did, 
Auntie  ?" 

"  What  do  you  think,  Lilly  ?" 

"  I  hope  that  she  can  see  me  and  be  with  me.  Sonetimes,  I 
feel  sure  she  is  not  far  off." 

Her  rapt  face  shone  like  that  of  the  angel  she  Beared  to 
welcome.  Whatever  was  my  belief  in  the  beauttul  theory 
taught  by  the  mother,  and  received  by  the  trusting  child,  I  be- 
held in  it  a  blessed  consolation  to  the  latter  ;  a  harmless  delusion, 
'f  they  were  mistaken  in  their  translation  of  spirit-longings  ;  one 
rich  in  peace  and  comfort  to  the  survivors,  as  to  the  parting 

soul. 

"She  cannot  forget  you,  Lilly,"  I  said,  "and  it  ii  sweet  t« 
thiuk  of  her  as  present  with  us." 


MOBS     SIDE.  219 

"  Then  she  knows  how  good  you  are  to  me,"  she  responded, 
again,  fondling  my  face,  "  and  that  I  am  already  quite  satisfied 
tc  live  here  at  Moss-side,  with  you  and  grandpapa,  and  that  I 
have  two  mothers  now — one  here,  and  another  in  heaven  1" 

"  Yes — yes  !"  I  assented,  unwilling  to  shake  her  happy  faith. 

She  did  not  move  or  speak  for  some  time. 

"  Auntie,"  she  whispered,  finally,  "  you  hare  somt  friends  that 
you  love  in  heaven,  too,  haven't  you  ?" 

"Yes,  dear  Lilly,"  my  manner  a  mournful  contrast  to  hers. 

"  Your  mother  is  there — isn't  she  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  she  died  when  I  was  very  small — several  years  younger 
than  you  are  now." 

"  And  Uncle  Frederic,"  she  proceeded,  "  he  is  with  her,  I 
know,  for  mamma  said  he  was  a  Christian.  Oh  I  how  we  all 
cried  when  we  heard  that  he  was  " 

"  There,  love  !  no  more  !"  I  entreated.  "  0,  my  brother  !  my 
brother  !"  giving  way  to  a  paroxysm  of  grief,  the  first  tears 
other  eyes  had  seen  me  shed  since  I  wept  in  Herbert's  arms. 

"  Dear,  dear  Auntie  !"  murmured  the  sweet  voice,  broken  by 
sobs,  "  please  forgive  me  !  I  did  not  mean  to  distress  yon — 
indeed — indeed,  I  did  not  1  I  thought  you  would  love  to  talk  " 
— and  breaking  down  completely,  she  cried  with  me. 

I  was  refreshed,  not  exhausted,  by  this  salutary  indulgence, 
and  regained  my  self-command  sooner  than  did  she.  Taking  her 
upon  my  lap,  and  kissing  away  her  tears,  with  many  assurances 
that  I  was  neither  wounded  nor  offended,  I  bade  her  tell  me  all 
about  the  uncle  whose  playfellow  she  had  been. 

Very  dear  were  these  gleanings  of  the  later  months  of  his  life. 
In  the  beginning  the  sensitive  narrator  proceeded  warily,  scanning 
my  features  for  any  return  of  the  late  tempest  of  uncontrollable 
emotion,  but  as  I  continued  calm,  she  cast  off  fear,  and  related 
just  such  incidents  and  particulars  as  I  wished  to  hear  ;  sketched 
domestic  scenes  and  social  virtues  with  a  loving  fidelity  thai 


220  MOS8-8IDK. 

proved  the  stand  he  had  gained  in  the  hearts  of  his  brother*! 
family  and  stranger  friends.  He  it  was  who,  by  his  frequent 
Btories  of  our  childhood  and  highly  colored  paintings  of  his  un- 
worthy sister's  charms  and  excellences  had  prepared  Lilly  to  love 
me.  The  rain  still  beat  and  the  wind  moaned,  but  it  was  not 
'.be  dirge  to  which  I  had  listened  through  two  winters  past,  for 
m'thin  my  soul  were  angel-voices,  and  in  my  sight,  an  angel's 
form. 

From  that  night,  my  dependence  upon  her  began.  The  germ 
which  had  put  forth  under  the  rain  of  her  tears,  was  baptized 
anew  by  mine,  and  day  by  day,  the  thread-like  roots  spread  and 
strengthened  ;  twining  tendrils  wound  about  the  slender  support 
that  bore  them  up  well  and  bravely.  Our  Lilly  was  not  a  saint 
— still  less  was  she  a  genius.  Her  father  had  described  her  tru- 
ly as  an  intelligent,  warm-hearted  child,  in  whom  whatever  was 
lovable  and  good  had  been  fostered,  and  evil  propensities 
restrained.  Her  ministry  to  me  was  as  spontaneous  as  her  mirth. 
Her  delicate  intuition  advised  her  that  there  existed  the  need  of 
a  reconciling  medium  between  me  and  my  kind,  a  need  she  sup- 
plied, without  comprehending  ;  which  her  unformed  mind  cer- 
tainly never  attempted  to  follow  back  to  a  primary  cause. 

Edmund  tarried  to  see  her  domesticated,  and  after  a  touching 
mrewell,  wended  his  way  back  to  his  place  of  business,  homeless 
and  solitary.  Our  household  fairy  drooped  her  pinions  for  a 
while,  but  they  were  too  buoyant  to  succumb  entirely  to  the 
heaviest  pressure.  Soon  the  quaint  old  homestead  was  resonant 
•with  her  carols  and  her  gleesome  laughter,  and  her  feet  skimmed 
its  floors  as  gaily  as  though  these  were  not  haunted  precincts — a 
skeleton  in  every  corner.  From  her  they  were  mercifully  veiled 
— the  phantoms  that  glided  past,  and  walked  with  me,  wherever 
J  moved  were,  viewless,  and  therefore  undreaded  by  her.  I  had 
not  so  much  leisure  now  to  heed  them.  Active  duties  were  driv 
Ing  out  sickly  humors.  The  moping  needlework  absorbed  lesi 


M08S-8ID  K.  221 

of  my  attention,  for  Lilly's  lessons  were  of  greater  importance 
She  must  have  exercise,  and  my  walks  were  shorter  and  more 
diversified  ;  amusements,  and  the  piano,  discordant  from  disuse, 
was  retuned  ;  a  closet  fitted  up  for  a  play-house,  and  stocked 
by  myself.  This  tiny  cog  in  our  machinery  accelerated  the  slo^ 
rate  of  its  revolutions,  and  the  web  that  rolled  from  it  was  inter- 
spersed with  light,  graceful  designs,  and  hints  of  brighter  color- 
ing, among  the  formal  patterns,  in  dead,  neutral  hues,  that  had 
hitherto  formed  our  bundle  of  life. 


M  O  8  8     SIDE. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

IT  was  a  clear,  bracing  morning,  and  rny  pupil  was  restless  t» 
have  done  with  books. 

"  This  is  a  beautiful  day,  Auntie,"  she  said,  between  a  recita 
tion  in  Geography  and  one  in  Arithmetic 

"  Very  beautiful  !"  I  replied,  unsuspet^ngly.  "  Now  for  youi 
rale,  Lilly." 

It  was  correctly  repeated,  the  questions  in  mental  practice 
and  the  written  sums  approved,  and  she  ventured  further. 

"It  will  be  nice  walking  about  twelve  o'clock — don't  you 
think  so  ?" 

"  We  will  try  it,"  answered  I.  "  Have  you  any  particular 
jaunt  to  propose  ?" 

This  was  what  she  waited  for,  and  her  straight-forward  rejoin- 
der showed  that  she  was  indisposed  to  prolong  the  guileless 
maneuvering. 

"  Yes,  ma'am.  I  should  like  very  much  to  go  to  the  ice- 
pond." 

"  And  why  the  ice-pond  ?" 

"Because  the  men  are  at  work  there  to-day.  Uncle  Sam 
told  grandpapa  this  morning  that  the  ice  was  thick  enough  to 
be  cut  out,  and  grandpapa  said  that  the  hands  were  to  go 
down  and  get  it  right  away.  I  would  so  dearly  enjoy  seeing 
them  pull  out  the  great  shining  blocks,  and  load  the  wagon* 
with  them  !  Joe  says  they  glitter  just  like  silver." 

"  If  Joe's  eloquence  has  been  exercised  in  behalf  of  the  expe- 
dition, opposition  from  me  would  be  thrown  away,"  thought  I 


MOSS-SIDE.  223 

If  we  get  through  our  studies  early,  Lilly,  we  will  talk  about 
joir.ing  the  workmen.'* 

"  Grandpapa  has  gone  too,"  finished  she.  "  I  saw  him  ride 
down  the  back  lane,  not  long  ago.  Won't  he  be  surprised  tc 
see  us  ?" 

Dispatch  was  the  soul  of  her  duties  until  the  tasks  were 
accomplished.  Well  wrapped  up  in  cloak  and  furs,  she  danced 
delightedly  around  the  room,  as  I  attended  to  some  final  pre- 
parations for  my  aunt's  comfort  while  we  should  be  away. 

"  Lilly  dear,"  I  said,  reprovingly.  "  You  may  trouble  Aunt 
Agnes  if  you  jar  the  room." 

The  invalid  smiled.  "  No  fear  of  that  !  She  moves  too 
lightly,  and  I  enjoy  her  flow  of  spirits.  Be  very  careful  of  her, 
Grace.  Is  she  warmly  clad  ?  It  is  piercing  cold." 

"  See  I"  said  Lilly,  opening  the  wadded  skirts  of  her  mantle  ; 
"  and  we  walk  so  fast — Auntie  and  I — that  we  never  know 
what  the  weather  is." 

"Young  blood  is  warmer  than  mine,"  remarked  my  aunt, 
slowly  rubbing  her  palsied  hand.  "  I  am  too  apt  to  forget  how 
hard  it  is  to  chill  it,  for  I  am  never  warm  myself." 

Lilly  ran  to  her  to  say  "  Good-bye,"  and  held  up  her  face, 
pure  as  a  snow-drop,  for  the  salute  none  ever  denied  as  her  law- 
ful perquisite. 

The  wind  was,  in  truth,  very  cutting,  while  we  travelled  the 
exposed  plains  and  higher  grounds,  and  we  were  ready  to  slacken 
our  gait  to  take  breath,  when  we  gained  the  shelter  of  the 
woods.  Icicles  fringed  some  of  the  lower  branches  to  which  the 
sun  and  wind  had  imperfect  access  ;  the  brown  leaf-carpet  was 
powdered  with  hoar-frost,  and  the  twigs  we  brushed  and  trod 
upon  snapped  spitefully.  No  child  of  the  forest  could  have 
boasted  more  ruddy  cheeks,  a  more  elastic  bound  than  my  city* 
born  companion.  She  sprang  over  fallen  brush-wood,  mounted 
rocks  and  stumps,  flying,  every  other  minute,  from  the  path,  in 


224  MOSS-BIDE. 

search  of  these  inviting  obstacles  ;  and  once  a  peal  of  laughter, 
melodious  as  a  wood-nymph's  call  to  her  mates,  drew  my  notice 
to  a  headlong  race  after  a  startled  hare,  down  a  slope,  3ncum 
bered  with  undergrowth  and  logs,  to  which  she  paid  no  more  rfr 
gard  than  did  the  four-footed  puss.  She  rejoined  me,  still  oil  the 
run,  her  hood  hanging  by  one  ribbon  from  her  finger,  a  comic 
Biixture  of  regret  and  mirthfulness  in  her  countenance. 

"  Auntie  dear,"  she  panted,  "  I  am  very  sorry — but  it  caught 
npon  a  naughty  limb,  and,  of  course,  it  was  impossible  for  me 
to  stop  just  then,  for  I  wanted  to  see  where  the  hare's  nest 
was.  I  thought  I  could  remember  the  very  spot  where  I  drop- 
ped the  string,  but  when  I  lost  the  rabbit,  which,  I  am  sure, 
must  have  run  into  the  ground,  all  the  trees  looked  exactlj 
alike,  and  my  ribbon  was  not  upon  any  of  them.  I  did  not 
like  to  keep  you  waiting,  and  ran  back  to  tell  you.  Was  I  very 
careless  ?" 

"  Rather — I  must  say,"  I  returned,  smiling,  and  restoring  the 
liberated  curls  to  their  confinement. 

"  I  believe  I  could  find  it  if  I  were  to  hunt  a  while  longer," 
she  proposed. 

"  It  is  hardly  worth  while  to  do  that.  I  will  pin  your  bonnet 
on  now,  and  give  you  another  string  when  we  go  home.  How 
flushed  you  are  1  You  will  injure  yourself  by  such  violent  exer- 
cise, if  you  get  cool  too  suddenly.  We  had  better  walk  on  to- 
gether to  the  end  of  this  piece  of  woods." 

She  restrained  herself  to  my  pace,  only  darting  aside  twice  to 
pick  up  nuts,  until  we  were  out  of  the  forest,  and  beheld  the 
Bheen  of  the  ice  through  its  girdle  of  shrubbery  trees.  Clapping 
her  hands,  she  flew  from  my  side  with  the  speed  of  a  loosened 
arrow.  I  remarked,  in  my  more  deliberate  descent  of  the  hill, 
the  absence  of  signs  of  human  life,  where  we  had  expected  e 
busy  scene,  and  upon  the  bank  was  met  by  Lilly's  disappointed 
Why,  there  is  nobody  here  1" 


MOSS-SIDE.  225 

Perhaps  you  did  not  understand  grandpapa's  orders,"  1  sug« 


"  Indeed,  Auntie,  he  said  just  what  I  told  ycu  !  Joe  heard 
him  too,  and  wished  he  had  not  so  much  house-work  to  do,  and 
w>uld  come  down  here  with  tne  rest." 

"  Grandpapa  changed  his  mind  then,  I  suppose,"  I  said. 

"  Are  you  certain  this  is  the  pond,  Auntie  ?" 

"  Yes,  dear.     Come,  let  us  look  at  it." 

To  console  her,  I  led  the  way  to  the  edge,  and  pointed  out  the 
beauty  of  its  dazzling  surface.  It  was  a  narrow,  oblong  lake 
fenced  about  with  hills  except  at  the  northern  extremity,  whence 
poured  the  blast  that  had  given  to  "  Leigh's  pond  "  the  reputa- 
tion of  producing  the  thickest  ice  in  the  county,  and  that  coated 
it  across  when  other  waters  were  uncongealed. 

"  After  all,"  was  soon  the  juvenile  philosopher's  conclusion, 
"  it  would  not  be  half  so  pretty  if  it  were  all  cut  up,  and 
we  can  come  here  another  day,  when  they  do  begin  to  clear  it 
out." 

"  If  we  had  skates  now,  we  could  have  fine  sport,"  said  I.  "  I 
have  skated  here  many  a  day  when  I  was  a  girl." 

Nothing  would  do  but  I  must  relate  the  excursions  Frederic, 
Annie  Bell,  and  I  used  to  make  for  this  pastime  ;  how  Annie  and 
myself  were  fearful  and  awkward,  and  incurred  numberless  falls 
in  punishment  for  our  want  of  courage,  and  the  exhilarating  en- 
joyment of  the  rushing  sweep  from  end  to  end  of  the  lake,  after 
we  had  conquered  all  difficulties.  I  pointed  out  the  smoke  of 
Afrs.  Bell's  chimney  over  one  of  the  hills,  and  made  her  fairly 
ehout  with  the  tale  of  a  disaster  that  befell  me,  one  freezing  day, 
when  I  tempted  the  ice  upon  the  running  brook  that  fed  the 
pond,  and  atoned  for  my  rash  trust  by  a  plunge  in  mud  and  wa- 
ter three  feet  deep. 

"  I  scrambled  out,  dripping  and  shaking  with  cold,"  I  said  ] 
*'  there  was  no  fire  nearer  thai?  Mrs.  Bell's,  and  although  I  ran 
10* 


226  MOSS-BIDE. 

every  step  of  the  way,  my  frock  and  stockings  were  stiff  froaei 
when  I  got  to  her  house." 

"  This  looks  strong !''  said  she,  stamping  upon  the  slipper; 
sheet 

"  Oh,  yes  !  it  would  bear  twenty  men,  or  grandpapa  would 
•ot  think  it  ready  to  be  packed  away.  I  can  walk  on  it  without 
filling.  Shall  I  lead  you  to  the  other  side  ?" 

She  consented  with  great  glee,  although  she  breathed  hard 
wul  short  for  the  first  few  steps.  The  taste  of  excitement  made 
her  importunate  for  more. 

"  I  can  teach  you  to  slide,"  I  said  ;  "  that  is  something  like 
skating,  but  much  easier  to  learn." 

I  retained  my  hold  of  her  while  her  footing  was  uncertain, 
but  when  she  once  stood  firmly  on  her  feet  her  poise  was  so  just 
and  elegant,  and  such  the  pliability  of  her  body  and  limbs,  that, 
to  gratify  her  and  myself  also,  I  omitted  this  precaution,  aud 
stopped  my  own  course  to  watch  hers.  I  had  removed  her  fur 
cape,  that  she  might  not  want  for  additional  clothing  when  the 
heat  of  motion  was  over,  and  the  wind  buoyed  her  cloak  into 
streaming  sails .  as  she  floated,  rapid  as  the  wind  itself,  hither 
and  thither,  wherever  her  ecstatic  fancy  willed.  The  pin  I  had 
put  in  her  hood  was  an  inadequate  substitute  for  the  lost  ribbon, 
and  a  sudden  turn  in  her  zigzag  career  left  her  head  bare.  This 
was  unsafe  exposure,  and  I  called  to  her  to  cover  it.  She 
snatched  up  the  bonnet  and  swung  it  around,  shook  her  curls 
over  her  eyes  in  pretty  willfulness,  arid  running  and  sliding, 
started  up  the  pond,  looking  back  at  me,  roguishly  defiant. 

"  Too  fast,  Lilly  1"  I  called  again — when  she  disappeared 
beneath  the  ice 

Superhuman  speed  and  skill  bore  me  to  the  fatal  air-hole- 
masked  by  a  crust,  which  had  broken  like  glass  at  a  touch.  Sha 
arose  where  she  had  sunk  ;  the  bright  ringlets  came  up  withic 
reach  of  my  grasp,  and  a  terror-stricken  face  looked  into  mine, 


MOSS-SIDE.  227 

I  seized  her,  felt  her  drowning  clutch  upon  my  sleeve,  shrieked 
some  words  of  encouragement,  dragged  her  from  the  chasm, 
and  in  the  effort  to  throw  her  far  upon  the  solid  ice,  losl 
my  balance. 

"  She  is  safe  !"  I  uttered,  mechanically,  before  I  realized  my 
own  peril.  Indeed,  I  knew  nothing  of  it  beyond  a  simultaneous 
Bense  of  extreme  coldness,  and  a  stunnu.g  blow — then  I  must 
have  gone  down  without  a  struggle. 

I  slept  a  long  time  ;  for  a  thousand  fragmentary  visions  that 
risited  my  brain,  while  I  lay  insensible  to  external  things,  recur 
to  me  even  now.  Some  were  nightmares,  with  which  I  grappled 
when  I  could  not  flee  the  horrid  spectres  ;  but  most  were  beauti- 
ful dreams  of  summer  scenes  and  sunny  hearts — a  lapsing  of 
mind  into  a  channel  blocked  up  and  forbidden  when  reason's 
Bway  was  potent  ;  revelled  in,  during  her  dethronement. 

My  waking  thought  was  that  the  morning  was  at  hand,  for  a 
reddish  light  shed  a  faint  illumination  through  the  chamber. 
With  this  indistinct  impression,  I  shut  my  eyes,  steeped  in  the 
delicious  languor  that  pervades  the  enchanted  land  on  the  bor- 
lers  of  sleep's  realm.  Unlovely  shapes  presently  invaded  thia 
domain  ;  witch-hags,  with  weazen  features  and  claw-like  fingers, 
gibbered  and  grimaced  at  me  ;  perched,  moping  and  mowing 
upon  bed-posts  and  pillows.  Their  whispers  buzzed,  at  length, 
into  intelligible  sentences. 

"  She  can't  stand  it  long,"  said  the  ugliest  gnome  of  the  crew. 
"  Her  pulse  is  very  low,  and  her  complexion  ghastly.  I  notice 
to-night  that  there  are  purple  circles  around  her  eyes  and 
mouth — a  sign  that  does  not  fail  once  in  a  hundred  times.  I 
ibould  not  wonder  if  she  were  to  die  to-morrow." 

"  The  doctor  has  hopes  of  her  still/'  aLswered  more  human 
tones.  The  beldame  troop  of  elves  vanished,  and  in  their  room 
were  the  shadowy  outlines  of  two  figures,  life-size  and  life-like. 
Bv  the  hearth  sat  Mrs.  Bell  and  Miss  Susan  Townlev,  Mis* 


228  M  O  S  S  -  8  I  D  K  . 

Susan's  were  the  lineaments  of  my  impish  tormeutoi  ;  and  »i 
her  wiry  whisper,  my  flesh  crept  as  at  the  grating  of  rough 
steel. 

"He  may  say  so,  and  not  believe  it  himself,  and  he  maj 
believe  it  and  not  be  n-^ht.  I  don't  pin  my  faith  to  his  sleeve. 
Besides,  nobody  can  ever  tell  what  he  does  think — he  goes  oa 
at  such  a  rate  !  I  know  something  about  sickness.  I've  nursed 
some  in  my  life,  and  can  judge  of  some  things  as  well  as  other 
people  that  are  thought  wiser.  If  this  girl's  life  is  not  going  out 
as  fast  and  certainly  as  that  candle  is  burning  down,  I  will  never 
undertake  to  speak  my  mind  upon  another  case." 

I  hearkened  without  alarm.  I  knew  the  doomed  girl ;  but 
what  was  my  personal  interest  in  her,  I  could  not  understand. 
I  appeared  to  have  a  double  existence,  and  neither  of  the 
two  was  more  than  a  half  developed  being.  Yet  what  con- 
cerned either  of  my  selves,  it  behooved  me  to  hear,  and  my  senses 
served  me  truly  in  gathering  every  word. 

"  I  will  hope  on  to  the  last,"  said  Mrs.  Bell.  "  She  is  almost 
as  dear  to  me  as  my  Annie.  I  trust  in  God's  goodness  not 
to  lay  heavier  burdens  upon  His  children  than  they  can  carry, 
and  her  loss  would  kill  her  father  and  aunt.  She  is  their  all, 
now." 

"  There  does  seem  to  be  a  fatality  hanging  over  that  family," 
pursued  Miss  Susan,  complacently  regaling  her  nostrils  with  a 
pinch  of  snuff.  "  It's  been  one  misfortune  after  another,  ever 
since  they  moved  into  the  neighborhood,  and  nobody  knows  how 
long  before.  The  old  man  lost  his  wife,  a  son  and  a  daughter  in 
three  years,  and  a  good  deal  of  property,  I've  heard.  Things 
went  on  smoothly  then,  until  here  come  his  sister's  sickness 
Frederic's  death,  and  most  likely,  the  death  of  this  one  too—  all 
m  a  lump,  as  it  were.  Queer — is  it  not  ?  that  the  two  youngest 
should  both  die  by  violence — as  we  may  call  it — anyhow  bj 
accident.  It  seems  to  me  like  a  peculiar  Providence." 


M  O  S  S  -  S  1  D  E  .  229 

Mrs  Bell's  manner  savored  of  displeasure.  "  I  do  not  know 
what  j  ou  mean  by  a  '  peculiar  Providence.'  If  you  would  say 
that  this  is  a  mysterious  dispensation,  I  agree  with  you  that  we 
cannot  see  why  the  righteous  should  be  so  afflicted,  and  that 
Providence  alone  can  perceive  any  need  of  the  discipline." 

This  was  not  Miss  Susan's  meaning,  she  said,  true  as  it  might 
be,  and  as  she  hoped  it  was. 

"We  are  blind,  erring  creatures,  the  best  of  us,  Mrs.  Bell, 
Bnd  require  chastisement — some  more  than  others  dream  of. 
Hidden  transgressions  are  often  visited  by  punishment  that 
astonishes  and  puzzles  a  man's  nearest  friends,  who  can't  believe 
that  he  deserves  it.  There  is  some  significance  in  every  blow. 
That  is  what  I  alluded  to  when  I  wondered  if  both  these 
children  being  drowned" 

"  Grace  was  not  drowned,"  Mrs.  Bell  corrected,  testily. 

"  But  she  would  have  been  if  they  had  not  pulled  her  out 
directly,"  was  the  rejoinder.  "As  I  was  saying,  Mr.  Leigh, 
good  as  he  is,  may  be  aware  of  some  secret  reason  for  this 
form  of  affliction.  If  I  were  in  his  place,  I  should  lay  it  to 
heart." 

"  As,  no  doubt,  poor  Mrs.  Allison  over  there,  did  the  deaths 
of  her  four  babes  in  one  week,  from  scarlet  fever,"  retorted  Mrs. 
Bell ;  "  as  Mr.  Peyton  did  the  loss  of  his  wife,  when  he  had 
neither  kith  nor  kin  besides  upon  earth  ;  as  you,  Miss  Susan, 
may  in  the  Lord's  time,  be  called  upon  to  mourn  for  your  own 
relations.  Ah  !"  sighed  the  matron,  shaking  her  head,  "  it  ia 
ot  for  ns  to  judge  of  the  dealings  of  the  Almighty,  to  apply 
the  lessons  He  sends  !  For  anything  we  know,  Mr.  Leigh — a 
oatient  Christian  he  is  !  may  be  set  up  as  an  example  ^>r  oar 
raitation,  and  we  could  not  have  a  worthier,  Miss  Susan,  to 
show  us  how  a  mortal  like  ourselves  may  '  glorify  God  in  the 
fire.'  By  their  works  ye  shall  know  them.  The  widow  and  the 
fatherless  can  relate  more  of  his  than  those  who  are  raised  above 


"230  M  0  b  S  -  8  1  J  >  K  . 

want ;"  and  moved  by  grateful  recollection,  or  hei  own  elo 
quence;  she  applied  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes. ' 

Miss  Susan's  sour  lips  took  on  a  superfluous  curl ;  but,  baffled 
in  one  quarter  by  blunt  sincerity,  she  tried  another  avenue  cf 
aspersion. 

"  His  daughter  does  not  favor  him  much  in  certain  respects 
She  was  passable  in  looks  and  manners  when  she  was  growing 
up.  Now-a-days,  I  can  make  nothing  of  her.  Annie  is  intimate 
with  her  ;  have  you  ever  heard  of  her  having  been  engaged  in  a 
love-scrape  or  having  had  any  other  cross  ?  I  strongly  suspect 
something  of  the  kind.  I  told  her  so  once,  and  she  turned  as 
red  as  a  beet." 

"  Annie  does  love  her,  as  do  I,  with  all  my  heart,"  returned 
the  hostess  ;  "  for  a  better  girl  does  not  live  hereabouts.  I  never 
heard  a  whisper  of  any  love-affair  ;  and  as  to  her  blushing  when 
you  charged  her  with  one,  it  would  have  been  strange  if  she  had 
not  been  confused.  Young  ladies  are  apt  to  color  up  at  such 
accusations,  as  they  used  to  do  in  your  day  and  mine,  now  gone 
by,  Miss  Susan." 

This  home-thrust  sent  Miss  Susan's  hand  again  to  her  pocket 
for  the  snuff-box. 

Mrs.  Bell  went  on.  "  Grace  has  enough  to  wear  her  down, 
anxiety,  and  nursing,  and  her  brother's  death.  They  were  per- 
fectly devoted  to  one  another." 

"  Humph  1  so  I've  been  told.  She  had  unbounded  influence 
over  him,  I  know.  Of  that  we  had  proof  in  his  marriage.  She 
made  the  match,  out  and  out." 

"  No  disparagement  to  her  if  she  did  !"  contended  Mrs.  Bell, 
4  Some  who  had  less  right  to  interfere,  would  have  rejoiced  to 
assist  him  in  the  choice  of  a  wife,  and  not  suited  him  at  that." 

Two  stabs  from  the  charitable  old  lady  in  the  same  number 
of  minutes  !  The  high  bridge  of  Miss  Susan's  nose  trembled 
with  the  powerful  sniff  that  drew  in  the  aromatic  dust  from  he; 


MOSS-SIDE.  23  J 

thumb  and  forefinger.  Sne  rapped  the  painted  lid,  to  be  ready 
for  the  next  emergency. 

"Well  1  well  !  you  see  what  has  come  of  this  affair.  She 
Lasn't  much  room  for  bragging  of  her  work.  Her  brother  ii 
dead  and  her  friend  a  widow  !" 

"  Miss  Susan  1  Miss  Susan  !"  her  hands  upraised  devoutly 
"  If  you  hope  to  obtain  mercy  for  yourself,  be  merciful  1  One 
would  suppose  that  you  triumph  in  the  troubles  of  your  neigh- 
bors. Not  that  I  believe  it,  but  you  do  shock  me,  imputing 
blame  to  those  whose  misfortunes  call  for  pity  ;  whose  sorrows 
are  directly  from  the  hand  of  the  Lord.  Just  picture  to  your- 
self that  lone  lamb  a  widow,  in  the  very  month  that  first  saw 
her  a  wife  !  It's  enough  to  make  a  heart  of  stone  ache  I" 

"  She  was  a  flighty,  flirting  butterfly,"  replied  Miss  Susan, 
flintily.  "  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  this  affliction  will  sober  her, 
and  be  sanctified  to  her  good." 

Here  something  sounded  through  my  head  like  a  breaking 
Itring.  I  gasped  and  fainted. 

Dr.  Hamner  held  my  wrist  and  Mrs.  Bell  bathed  my  face, 
when  I  could  see  again.  Annie  leaned  upon  the  post  where  the 
fiendish  hag  had  squatted. 

"  Where  is  she  ?"  I  said,  staring  around  me. 

"  Who,  dear  Grace  ?"  questioned  Mrs.  Bell  and  Annie  to- 
gether. 

"  She — the  one  that  said  Grace  Leigh  was  dying  !  I  saw  her 
and  heard  those  very  words." 

Mother  and  daughter  exchanged  glances. 

"  You  are  dreaming,  my  love,"  answered  the  latter. 

The  doctor's  bushy  eyebrows  met  in  his  frown.  "  What  stuff 
has  been  talked  in  her  hearing  ?"  he  snarled.  "  You  are  a 
goose,  Grace  Leigh,  and  your  she  whoever  she  is,  is  a  greater. 
'  Dj  ing,'  forsooth  1  I  dare  you  to  die  without  my  leave  I  If  I 
live  as  many  years  as  you  have  got  in  advance  of  you,  I  shal] 


232  MOSS-SIDE. 

bury  my  great-grandchildren.  People  don't  die  in  this  iegene 
rate  age  for  less  than  two  doctors.  Six  would  not  kill  you 
Pah  1  pooh  !  confound  meddlers,  I  say  !" 

This  gruff  vaporing  was  a  sedative  to  me,  and  decided  my 
doubts  as  to  whether  I  were  really  in  the  flesh. 

I  smiled,  and  he  nodded. 

"  That  is  sensible  !  If  you  speak  before  I  am  through  my 
Btory,  I  will  cut  your  tongue  out,  and  then,  as  a  spunky  woman, 
yon  will  not  live,  out  of  spite.  Where  are  you  ?  At  Mrs.  Bell's, 
with  Annie  to  cry  over  and  nurse  you.  How  did  you  get  here  ? 
You  were  trundled  in  a  wheel-barrow  by  old  Zack,  who  found 
you  in  the  road,  and  strained  his  back  in  hoisting  you  into  his 
vehicle.  What  were  you  doing  on  the  ground  ?  You  are  too 
hard  for  me.  The  most  plausible  theory  is  that  you  tripped  your 
toe,  or  twisted  your  foot,  or  swooned,  or  performed  some  othei 
feat  as  characteristic  of  your  sex,  and  in  falling,  cut  your  heacl 
with  a  pointed  stone  that  lay,  as  we  Irishmen  say,  '  convaynient.' 
Now,  you  have  all  the  information  you  could  ask  for,  if  you  were 
to  gabble  half  a  day,  and  as  talking  is  thus  proved  to  be  irra- 
tional, be  a  rational  animal,  and  eat  your  breakfast  instead — a 
light  luncheon,  which  old  Molly  will  be  offended  if  yoc  refuse." 

"  One  question,  doctor  1"  I  said,  feebly. 

"  Out  with  it  then  1  and  mind  that  you  know  how  to  count, 
for  I  won't  hear  more.  I  am  sent  for  in  a  plagued  hurry  to  see 
a  man  who  has  the  croup,  chicken-pox  and  consumption,  and 
was  dying  of  each  when  the  messenger  left  him.  What  is  it  ?" 

"  When  did  I  hurt  myself?" 

He  rammed  his  fists  into  the  huge  pockets  of  his  great-coat, 
"  That  is  more  Mrs.  Bell's  business  than  mine.  You  have  tres- 
passed upon  her  for  bed  and  board  and  messes  uncountable, 
since  yesterday  afternoon." 

"  Then  I  cannot  be  very  ill,"  I  was  about  to  say,  but  he 
threatened  me  with  an  imaginary  gash  in  his  own  tongue,  and 


MOSS-BIDE.  233 

i  held  mine  With  the  weakness,  I  had  the  docility  of  a 
child. 

Dawn  superseded  candle-light.  The  doctor,  warning  us  with 
assurances  of  his  speedy  and  overwhelming  vengeance,  if  we  dared 
to  speak  a  monosyllable,  beckoned  to  Mrs.  Bell,  and  Annie  was 
my  only  attendant.  I  would  have  addressed  her,  had  she  not 
put  her  finger  to  her  lips,  in  token  that  she  was  an  accomplice 
of  the  facetious  physician  in  whatever  the  scheme  was  he  had  on 
foot — some  jest,  I  was  foolish  enough  to  imagine.  I  poorly 
merited  his  epithet  of  "  rational  animal,"  for  my  mind  was  tor- 
pid, while  the  physical  portion  of  me  lazily  enjoyed  the  sensuous 
es«e  of  the  slumbering  nerves  and  relaxed  muscles,  the  dolce  fa? 
nientt  of  the  earliest  stages  of  convalescence.  My  bed  was  soft, 
the  chamber  summer  in  temperature,  and  my  once  ever-active 
imagination  could  conjure  up  no  Elysium  equal  to  a  perpetua- 
tion of  my  present  state,  no  horror  exceeding  the  pang  of  mov- 
ing. The  window-curtain  was  pushed  aside  by  a  chair,  undesigii- 
edly  set  against  it,  and  through  the  aperture  not  an  inch  wide, 
a  sunbeam  found  entrance.  The  motes,  rising  to  starry  lustre 
in  the  golden  stream,  sinking  to  annihilation  below  it,  were  my 
playfellows,  until  the  ray  narrowed  to  a  pencil,  the  pencil  to  A 
line,  the  line  to  a  hair-stroke,  and  the  sun  bad  passed.  Then  I 
slept  and  awoke  that  I  might  gain  a  relish  for  another  nap. 
The  doctor's  burly  figure  was  beside  me  several  times — why,  I 
had  no  idea.  Conjecture  upon  this  or  any  other  subject  was  too 
troublesome  for  the  Sybarite  body,  and  it  might  have  drugged 
its  nobler  mate  with  Lethean  waters,  so  abject  was  its  submis- 
sion. During  all  the  day  I  heard  not  a  footstep  or  a  voice.  My 
waiters  were  bodiless  mutes  for  all  tne  noise  they  made.  It 
was  kind  in  them,  I  thought,  and  the  exertion  of  this  trifling 
amount  of  gratitude  was  an  opiate  that  lasted  me  two  hours. 

I  dreamed  that  I  had  other  visitors,  benign  in  presence  and 
loying  in  deed,  for  they  sprinkled  my  couch  and  anointed  my  fore 


834  M  O  S  S  -  S   I   I  >   K  . 

head  and  hands  with  fragrant  essences.  I  stirred  at  waking 
and  there  was  a  flutter  of  unfurling  wings,  while  on  my  hand, 
resting  upon  the  counterpane  gleamed  a  tear-pearl,  not  yet 
cold.  A  vase,  in  dimension  suited  for  a  doll's  centre-table,  had 
been  placed  on  a  stand  by  the  bed,  and  from  it  sprang  a  pale* 
jpreeu  stem,  bearing  six  white  hyacinth-bells.  I  counted  them 
carefully,  after  divers  unsuccessful  attempts,  and  perceived  their 
odor,  so  delicate,  it  seemed  but  the  lingerings  of  my  dream. 
The  spring  floweret  recompensed  me  for  the  absence  of  the  sun- 
ray,  for  it  was  always  there  to  greet  my  eyes.  In  the  darkest 
hour  of  night,  the  taper  afforded  me  light  to  discern  the  snowy 
petals  bowing  meek  in  rest  or  humility.  Fragile  as  they  were, 
ft  knowledge  of  my  real  condition  would  have  led  to  a  doubt 
whether  they  might  not,  in  fading,  be  strewed  upon  my  coffin,  or 
Btill  blooming,  still  fragrant,  be  pressed  by  my  dead  hands  over 
a  motionless  heart. 

But  the  morrow  broke,  brightened  and  wasted,  and  evening 
found  me  yet  alive  and  conscious  to  all  pleasant  influences,  oblivi- 
ous of  the  existence  of  pain  and  woe,  just  breathing  enough  to 
show  that  I  lived  ;  just  sensible  enough  to  prove  myself  • 
11  rational  animal." 


X  O  8  ft  -  S  I  D  E  .  236 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  faces  of  Mrs  Bell  and  Annie  were  more  cheerful,  that  of 
Dr.  Hamner  graver  upon  the  third  day,  and  one  skilled  in  the 
knowledge  of  the  character  of  each,  would,  from  these  signs, 
have  augured  well  for  the  patient.  The  eccentric  knight  of  gal- 
lipots and  powders  was  happiest  in  situations  that  would  have 
distracted  an  ordinary  man,  and  dismal,  when  others  saw  every 
reason  for  rejoicing.  It  was  a  common  saying  that  he  cracked 
jokes  with  dying  men  and  swore  at  those  who  recovered.  It  is 
certain  that  his  jests  to  me  at  this  morning  call,  were  fewer  and 
more  forced  than  upon  prior  occasions,  when  he  had  arrogated 
as  his  prerogative,  the  whole  of  the  conversation  carried  on 
in  the  sick-room.  The  fourth,  he  was  reserved  and  moody  ;  the 
fifth,  cross. 

"  I  am  better,  thank  you  !"  I  replied  to  his  salutation. 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  the  grace  to  thank  me  for  it,"  h» 
growled.  "  You  will  be  as  short  of  memory  as  the  rest  of  them 
by  the  time  you  can  stand  upon  your  feet.  Put  out  your  tongue  ! 
That's  the  way  the  world  goes  1  How  can  I  feel  your  pulse 
when  your  hand  is  bobbing  this  way  and  that  ?  It  is  '  dear 
doctor/  and  tears  and  blessings,  when  Death  is  knocking  at  the 
door,  and  when  I  have,  by  fisticuffs,  and  kicks  and  wrestling,  day 
and  night,  driven  off  the  bugbear,  the  tune  is  changed.  '  Wha 
an  old  bear  !'  '  A  shockingly  rough,  vulgar  creature,  whom  we 
would  not  patronize,  you  know,  if  he  were  not  the  only  experi- 
enced physician  in  this  part  of  the  county,  you  know,  and  one 
must  submit  in  illness  to  a  great  mary  disagreeable  things,  you 


236  M  O  8  6  -  8  I  D  E  . 

know,  my  deal/"  mimicking  the  languishing  lisp  of  a  fine  lady 
"  It  is  downright  laziness  that  fools  you  into  keeping  your  bed  j 
yet  I  should  lose  your  custom,  and  thereby,  a  thick  slice  of  my 
bread  and  butter,  if  I  did  not  humor  you — treat  you  according 
to  your  folly." 

"  I  think  I  am  rather  weak,  doctor,"  I  said,  in  timid  expostu 
lation,  persuaded,  notwithstanding,  that  I  was  in  some  degre* 
culpable,  so  emphatic  was  his  declaration  of  the  cheat  I  was 
playing. 

"  And  so  would  Samson  have  been  '  rather  weak,'  if  he  had 
steamed  between  the  blankets  for  eight  days,  and  been  coddled 
with  toast  and  panado.  Mrs.  Bell,  have  you  obeyed  orders  with 
regard  to  that  old  maid — I  beg  your  pardon — and  hers  !  that 
youthful  friend  of  the  very  undecided  age,  who  is  addicted  to 
enuff  and  evil-speaking  ?" 

He  withdrew  to  the  fire-place  as  he  spoke,  and  Mrs.  Bell's 
reply  was  undistinguishable.  Not  so  his. 

"  My  respects  to  her  if  she  shows  her  peaked  phiz  within  your 
doors  again  upon  a  similar  errand,  and  say  that,  ignorant  quack 
as  she  thinks  me,  I  can  kill  those  who  are  green  enough  to  em- 
ploy me,  without  her  valuable  assistance  ;  and  that  when  I  am 
so  bereft  of  brains  as  to  go  into  partnership  with  a  woman,  she 
won't  stand  more  than  a  fifth-rate  chance  of  the  appointment." 

"  Doctor,  when  may  I  go  home  ?"  I  inquired. 

"  To-morrow  1"  said  he,  tersely. 

"  Are  they  well  at  Moss-side  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  and  I  have  pocketed  a  bribe  to  imprison  you  here  so 
long  as  I  can  manufacture  pretexts  for  doing  so — they  gel^  on  so 
grandly  without  you." 

I  laughed. 

"  It  is  the  truest  word  you  have  heard  me  speak  to-day,  Misa 
believe  it  or  not,  as  you  choose  !  But  you  may  go  home  to  spite 
them  whenever  you  are  ready.  Get  up  !  stir  around  !  neve* 


MOSS     SIDE. 


if  your  head  is  giddy  !  that  is  not  a  fault,  but  nature  in 
female  brains.  Go  down  stairs  to  dinner,  walk  out  with  Annie 
this  afternoon,  and  by  the  morning  you  will  be  as  strong  as  au 
elephant.  If  you  prefer  to  travel  in  style,  Zack's  wheelbarrow 
is  at  your  service.  A  bottle  of  opodeldoc  will  be  an  acceptable 
reward  for  any  further  demands  of  that  sort." 

"Nonsense  1"  said  I.  "I  cannot  walk  down  stairs  and  up 
again." 

"  Then,  lie  still  1" 

"  Why  have  not  my  father  and  Lilly  been  to  see  me  ?"  1 
asked,  revealing  my  wounded  feeling. 

"  Where  was  the  use  ?  You  did  nothing  but  sleep,  sleep, 
Bleep  like  a  beggar  in  the  sunshine.  They  were  here  yesterday, 
the  day  before,  and  the  day  before  that  —  saw  you  breathe  and 
heard  you  snore.  You  must  not  look  for  them  again  in  a  week. 
They  cannot  wade  through  snow  a  foot  deep." 

I  cast  my  eyes  unbelievingly  to  the  window. 

"  Don't  credit  that  either,  hey  ?  Jump  up  and  see  for  your- 
self !  Oho  !  you  can't  ?  Until  you  can,  trust  the  report  of 
reracious  people  !" 

"  Annie,"  I  said,  when  he  had  gone,  "  has  there  been  a  snow- 
storm ?" 

"  Not  such  an  one  as  the  doctor  described,"  she  returned, 
"  but  the  ground  is  covered." 

"  Then  Lilly  ought  not  to  venture  out,"  I  soliloquized. 

My  hands  were  in  their  usual  position  on  the  outside  of  the 
bed,  and  as  I  lifted  one,  the  light  was  visible  through  the  wasted 
Gugers,  as  through  mother-of-pearl,  a  phenomenon  that  filled  me 
with  amazement. 

Annie  marked  the  motion  and  my  expression. 

"  You  did  not  know  how  thin  you  had  grown  —  did  you  ?  You 
must  reflect  that  you  have  taken  a  very  small  quantity  of  nou- 
rishment and  no  exercise  since  Dr.  Hamper  has  been  your  jailer.' 


238  MOSS-SIDE. 

"  I?  eight  days !"  I  said.  "  I  had  not  supposed  that  one  couM 
tall  away  as  I  have  done  in  that  time." 

"  You  have  the  evidence  of  your  own  sight,"  .Anaie  replied. 
"  Do  not  be  discouraged.  Take  heart  and  recruit  with  like  ra- 
pidity. You  are  decidedly  better  to-day,  the  doctor  says.  He 
recommends,  however,  that  you  talk  very  little.  What  an  anti- 
pathy he  professes  to  our  sex  !  He  has  a  kind  heart,  though, 
and  has  been  unwearied  in  his  cares  to  you.  It  is  a  sore  tempta- 
tation  to  be  with  you  when  I  must  be  dumb,  but  I  will  try  to 
resist  it  for  your  sake.  I  am  impatient  to  have  you  up  and  well. 
Now  !  silence  is  the  order  of  the  day." 

This  is,  perhaps,  the  most  appropriate  place  for  me  to  recount 
the  incidents  of  my  rescue  from  a  watery  grave  and  my  trans- 
portation to  the  abode  of  the  benevolent  widow.  Old  Zack  was 
on  the  forenoon  of  my  adventure,  foraging  in  the  woods  adjacent 
to  the  pond,  for  game  in  the  shape  of  hares  and  partridges,  and 
light-wood  for  torches  and  kindlings,  attended  by  Sultan.  Drawn 
towards  the  lake  by  the  sound  of  Lilly's  laughter,  he  was  in 
sight  of  us  at  the  moment  of  the  catastrophe,  had  I  looked  for 
other  succor  than  what  I  could  extend.  Hale  and  sound  in 
wind,  he  reached  us  as  speedily  as  a  young  man  f^uld  have 
done.  His  shout  was  unheard  in  my  frantic  haste.  Lilly  was 
cast  almost  to  his  feet,  and  the  waves  had  not  closed  after  me 
when  the  Newfoundland  dashed  in  among  the  fractured  ice. 
Lilly  was  unhurt,  and  thoughtless  of  her  freezing  apparel  in  her 
concern  for  me.  Zack  dispatched  her,  piloted  by  the  sagacious 
Sultan,  to  his  mistress's  house,  bidding  her  "  run  fast  to  keep 
life  in  herself  and  me  ;"  enfolded  me  in  his  shaggy  dreadnought 
coat ;  disposed  me  ingeniously  in  his  hand-cart,  and  trundled,  ai 
if  fifty  lives,  more  precious  than  mine,  hung  upon  his  celerity. 

The  reason  of  the  solitude  where  Lilly  had  promised  me  we 
should  see  all  the  working  force  of  the  plantation,  was,  that  my 
father,  upon  a  personal  survey  of  the  premises,  differed  from  the 


MC  S  8  -  8  I  I)  E  .  239 

man  whose  report  Lilly  had  heard,  and  declaring  the  ice  too  thin 
for  his  purpose,  postponed  getting  it  out  until  the  following  day. 
The  hands  dispersed  to  other  avocations,  and  he,  by  a  singulai 
coincidence,  rode  by  Mrs.  Bell's  to  inquire  how  she  fared  in  the 
tocloinent  weather.  He  had  arisen  to  go  home,  when  the  do^t 
aas  burst  inwards  by  Lilly,  beside  herself  with  fright  and  dis- 
tress Annie  carried  her  off  to  bed,  and  the  others  hastened  hi 
quest  of  me.  In  falling — and  this  was  anohter  crumb  of  truth  in 
the  doctor's  fiction,  founded  upon  fact — I  had  received  a  wound 
in  the  temple,  not  from  a  "  convenient"  stone,  but  a  more  for- 
midable projection,  jagging  the  side  of  the  air-hole.  The  cut 
was  dangerous,  the  blow  severe.  The  night  of  Miss  Susan's 
neighborly  watch  was  the  eighth  of  my  delirium,  instead  of  the 
second,  as  they  would  have  had  me  believe.  The  imperious 
Irishman  prohibited  the  utterance  of  anything  that  could  recall 
the  ir.emory  of  my  accident,  justly  fearing  its  agitating  effects, 
Upon  his  accommodating  conscience,  he  imposed  the  inventions 
that  slipped  like  oil  from  his  tongue,  when,  for  the  success  of  hia 
art,  he  considered  it  necessary  to  do  evil  that  good  might  come. 
These  details  were  doled  out  to  me  as  my  insatiate  inquiries 
demanded  some  satisfaction.  The  whole  story  was  not  gained 
until  I  could  sit  up  in  my  room,  and  Aunt  Molly's  arms  were  tlu 
palanquin,  wherein  I  rode  down  to  the  lower  story  every  day  to 
dinuer.  The  old  woman  and  her  husband  regarded  me  as  their 
foster-child,  in  right  of  my  deliverance  by  the  last-named.  They 
were  privileged  dependents,  never  feeling  their  servitude,  and 
mere  prone  to  speaking  their  whole  minds  than  was  their  nomi- 
nal mistress.  Their  propriety  in  me  they  asserted  jealously, 
/ack  paid  his  respects  in  my  chamber  the  same  day  that  my 
father  wag  admitted  to  a  waking  interview  ;  and  every  luxary 
the  country  afforded  at  that  season  was,  through  his  instrumen- 
tality, provided  for  me.  Sultan,  too,  he  trained  to  march  up 
itairs  at  his  heels,  and  bear  a  part  in  the  ceremonial  of  the 


240  M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  K  . 

audience  vouchsafed  to  him.  Thus  they  presented  themselTct, 
the  morning  of  the  day  fixed  for  my  going  home.  Zack  stood 
oear  the  door  ;  my  canine  preserver  walked  up  and  touched 
mv  hand  with  his  nose.  I  patted  him — license,  as  he  understood 
It,  to  rest  his  black  muzzle  upon  my  knee,  and  while  I  talked 
U)  Zack,  his  intelligent  eyes  never  quitted  my  face. 

"  I  wish  I  could  tell  you  how  much  obliged  I  am  for  what  you 
have  done,  old  fellow,"  said  I  to  him.  "  He  looks  as  if  he  might 
knoN  what  I  am  saying,  Uncle  Zack." 

"  He  does,  Miss  Grace.  Dat  cretur  is  'nough  sight  smarter 
.'Ian  most  folks.  When  yon  fell  into  dat  ar  hole  he  never  waited 
for  no  orders,  but  before  you  could  say  'Jack  Robinson,'  he 
duv  straight  down  arter  you." 

"  I  owe  him  a  great  deal,  Uncle  Zack,  but  much  more  to  you. 
I  ehall  never  forget  your  goodness  in  saving  my  life  and  waiting 
oa  me  while  I  was  sick." 

"  'Taint  nothin'  to  speak  of,  Miss  Grace.  Anybody  might  'a 
done  all  dat  and  not  'served  '  thank  ye '  for  it.  I'se  mighty  glad 
I  happened  along  jest  in  de  nick  of  time.  Sultan,  dar  I  he  was 
de  feller  what  worked — warn't  you,  Sultan  ?" 

"  Ah,  Uncle  Zack  I  I  have  heard  the  story  from  beginning  to 
end  ;  how  you  rolled  your  wheelbarrow  up  the  steepest  side  of 
the  hill,  because  it  was  a  shorter  way  than  by  the  path  ;  and  I 
was  a  heavier  load  then  than  now." 

"  You  was  dat  1"  showing  his  teeth.  "  You  warnt  a  bag  of 
feathers,  I  can  tell  you,  yet  I  never  knowed  but  what  you  was, 
'till  1  see  yer  pa  and  mistis  running  up  to  me.  Den  my  arms 
did  ache,  I  'low.  But  for  all  dat  I  never  strained  my  back,  if 
Dr.  Hamner  did  say  so." 

My  father  had  deposited  with  me  a  sum  of  money,  that  1 
might  tender  him  and  his  wife  a  substantial  tok'en  of  my  grate 
fill  remembrance,  and  I  here  begged  him  to  accept  his  share  of 
It.  He  hung  back,  in  an  awkward  dilemma  betwixt  his  dislike 


M  O  8  S  -  8  I  D  E  .  241 

to  receive  what  appeared  to  be  remuneration  of  his  services, 
and  his  dread  of  wounding  me. 

"  We  don't  want  no  pay,  Miss  Grace,"  he  stammered,  twirling 
his  sorry  wool  hat  and  shuffling  from  foot  to  foot.  "  Me  and 
Snltan  would  'a  done  jest  de  same  for  any  drownin'  dumb  beast, 
let  alone  one  we  sot  so  much  store  by — one  of  our  chillen,  as 
it  might  be.  You  and  Miss  Annie  stans  pretty  nigh  together  in 
we-all's  hearts — don't  dey,  Sultan  ?" 

Sultan  gave  his  affirmative  wag,  and  looked  back  to  my  face. 

"  Aud  de  ole  woman — she  feels  jest  zactly  as  we  do — don't 
you,  Molly  ?  So,  Miss  Grace,  if  you'll  'member  us  as  friends, 
and  drop  over  to  see  us  whenever  you  can  spar*  time,  we  won't 
say  no  more  'bout  money." 

"  I  don't  mean  to  pay  you,  Uncle  Zack.  I  am  not  rich 
enough  to  do  that.  This  is  for  you  to  buy  a  keepsake  with, 
something  to  remember  me  by,  when  I  leave  you." 

By  dint  of  reasoning  and  a  feint  of  hurt  feeling,  I  finally  car 
ried  my  point. 

"  Aunt  Molly,"  said  I,  as  she  shut  him  out.  "  I  hope  you 
listened  to  what  I  told  Uncle  Zack,  for  I  have  not  strength  to 
go  over  it  again  to  you.  Will  you  please  take  this  from 
me?" 

"If  it  will  pleasure  you,  Miss  Grace.  You  can't  help  know- 
ing dat  I  don't  like  to  do  it." 

"  I  do  know  it,  Aunt  Molly,  but  I  must  make  you  do  as  I  say, 
this  once,"  dropping  the  purse  into  her  hand.  "  You  have  been 
like  a  mother  to  me.  God  bless  you  for  it  1" 

"  I  pray  night  and  mornin'  dat  He  will,  Miss  Grace  !"  was 
the  unexpected  reply.  "  I  will  never  be  satisfied,  I  tell  Him, 
wulout  He  answers  my  prayer.  I  says  to  Him,  '  You  been 
snatch  her  from  de  water  whar  she  would  'a  found  her  death  ; 
njw  save  her  from  de  second  death  !  Dis  is  de  blessin'  I  asks.' 
You've  thanked  Zack  and  Sultan  and  me  for  de  little  He  lef  us 
11 


242  M  O  B  8  -  6  I  D  E  . 

to  do      We  didn't  deserve  it,  but  He  does.     His  mercy  "nils  for 
everlastin'  praises  out  of  your  mouth." 

She  was  not  so  garrulous  as  her  stronger  half,  and  now 
courtesied  respectfully  and  left  the  room.  Pious  negroes  rarely 
omit  an  opportunity  to  cast  in  "  a  word  in  season."  Every 
occasion  of  universal  joy  or  calamity,  a  marriage,  a  death,  ill- 
ness and  recovery,  are  to  them  seed-times.  Molly  had  not  with- 
held her  hand,  and  the  Lord  of  the  harvest  would  count  her 
guiltless,  although  she  sowed  upon  a  rocky  wayside. 

At  noon  arrived  the  carriage,  with  my  father,  to  take  me 
away.  Annie  was  to  accompany  us  and  remain  at  Moss-side  a 
day  or  two.  Mrs.  Bell  wept  over  me,  in  saying  "  good-bye," 
and  I  was  too  weak  to  refuse  an  answering  tear.  Dr.  Hamner 
rode  up,  in  his  sulkiest  temper,  as  we  were  starting,  and  was 
careful  that  we  should  not  be  flattered  by  what  he  represented 
as  "  a  chance  encounter,  he  having  forgotten  that  he  had  given 
me  leave  to  decamp."  He  felicitated  Mrs.  Bell  upon  this  rid- 
dance, and  claimed  her  thanks  as  his  due  for  having  contrived 
it ;  counselled  my  father  to  the  purchase,  or  loan,  if  he  coul<! 
not  be  bought,  of  Sultan,  to  guard  me  in  my  peregrinations 
scowled  at  me,  and  gallopped  off  in  his  accustomed  "plagued 
hurry." 

We  had  another,  and  a  less  agreeable  meeting  on  the  route 
At  the  fork  of  the  road,  Mr.  Towuley  ambled  by  on  his  glossy 
sorrel.  He  raised  his  hat  to  tht  carriage,  and  sent  in  a  search- 
warrant  glance  through  the  window.  Annie  supported  jne  upon 
the  back  seat.  I  was  looking  towards  him  and  met  his  gaze. 
He  changed  countenance,  perhaps  in  surprise,  perhaps  in  remors* 
for  past  cruelty  to  the  ghost-like  being  whose  life  seemed  trem- 
bling upon  a  breath  ;  perhaps  with  far  dissimilar  emotions  called 
forth  by  seeing  me  in  that  locality. 

"  He  startled  you,  did  he  not  ?"  inquired  Annie. 

I  murmured  something  in  response,  and  put  my  hand  upon  thf 


MOBS-SIDE  243 

icarred  temple  which  throbbed  at  the  least  excitement  Mj 
father's  scrutiny  was  not  foiled  by  this  pretence  of  physical  ail- 
ment. He  became  serious  despite  his  efforts  to  wear  an  unruffled 
front  to  me.  What  he  discovered,  it  was  impossible  for  me  to 
conceive,  but  I  had  a  presentiment  that  he  was  not  far  from 
guessing  the  truth. 

Dear  old  Moss-side  I  It's  familiar  loveliness  caused  a  vibra- 
tion of  a  rusted  chord  in  my  bosom — bare  as  was  its  grove,  sere 
its  verdure.  Lilly  came  flying  down  to  the  gate,  and  close 
after  her  was  Martha,  sobbing  hysterically  behind  her  clean 
apron.  My  aunt  met  me  with  a  fervent  but  silent  greeting, 
and  she,  likewise,  drew  out  her  handkerchief  the  next  minute. 
I  did  not  wonder  at  this  invariable  manifestation  of  pity,  when  1 
saw  myself  in  the  mirror  in  my  room.  At  Mrs.  Bell's  I  was  an 
invalid,  and  examined  the  reflection  of  my  figure  daily  for  signs 
of  improvement  ;  elated  when  Annie's  observations,  joined  to 
mine,  detected  a  tinge  of  healthier  coloring,  or  we  imagined  that 
an  angle  was  plumping  into  a  curve.  Here  the  image  I  had 
seen  equipped  for  our  ill-starred  walk,  was  as  plainly  before  me 
as  if  it  were  painted  upon  the  glass,  and  within  the  same  frame, 
were  features,  scared  by  their  own  shadow  ;  the  forehead  blood- 
less as  bone  ;  the  hair  cropped  short  on  one  side,  scanty  and 
ragged  on  the  other ;  lack-lustre  eyes  ;  cheeks  pallid  and 
shrunken,  and  lips  streaked  with  the  black  lines  of  fever.  Fas- 
cinated by  the  contrast  which  should  have  occasioned  a  recoil,  I 
looked  long  and  fixedly  ;  then  turning  away  I  avoided  the  sight 
for  weeks  afterward  A  morbid,  selfish  distaste  for  society  had 
made  me  a  recluse  before  my  sickness  ;  necessity,  backed  by 
pride,  secluded  me  now.  Yet  with  the  accessories  of  debility 
and  mortified  vanity,  discontent  was  not  so  absolute  in  ita 
dominion  as  when  health  and  good  looks  were  unimpaired. 

The  white  hyacinth,  her  offering  beside  my  sick-bed,  wa&  aij 
apt  emblem  of  Lilly  herself.  As  through  eventless  hours,  wheo 


244  MOSS-SIDE. 

although  1  knew  it  not,  I  was  balanced  between  Life  and  Beath» 
I  had  feasted  my  dim  eyes  upon  its  chaste  beauty,  inhaled  lit 
subtle  perfume  as  a  breath  of  healing,  so,  in  my  days  of 
languishing  and  tedious  recovery,  I  drank  in  vitality  from  her 
companionship  and  "  affection.  Spring  advanced  punctually  ; 
garden  and  field  and  forest  lured  her  abroad,  but  no  extrava- 
gance of  temptation  had  power  over  her,  when  she  fancied  that 
I  needed  her.  While  away  from  me  her  every  act  evinced  a 
thought  for  my  solace.  A  very  Flora,  she  would  appear  in 
my  presence,  garlanded  with  leaves  and  flowers,  and  bringing 
for  me  blossoms  of  her  choosing,  she  would  suffer  no  one  else  to 
cull ;  wild  violets,  forget-me-nots,  tender-eyed  innocents,  and 
anemones,  you  felt  it  would  be  cruel  to  handle  roughly.  These 
decorated  my  apartment  and  conversed  with  me  of  her  in  her 
absence.  "  May  she  not  be  to  me  the  harbinger  of  a  new 
spring  ?"  Hope  sometimes  whispered  ;  but  my  familiar  demon, 
the  cockatrice-egg  which  had  hatched  a  viper,  put  to  death  the 
friendly  intruder.  "  The  human  heart  has  but  one  spring  " — it 
hissed.  "  You  have  had  yours  ;  gathered  its  flowers,  eaten  its 
fruits." 

One  Sabbath  forenoon,  I  was  alone  at  home,  the  others, 
including  my  aunt,  having  gone  to  church.  I  was  nearly  well, 
and  wearying  of  confinement,  I  strolled  over  the  garden  until 
my  faltering  limbs  and  labored  respiration  impelled  me  to  rest 
in  the  summer-house,  so  frequently  mentioned  in  former  chap- 
ters. The  grass  was  warm,  as  I  laid  out  my  feet  in  the  sun- 
shine ;  the  bees  were  humming  over  the  strawberry  beds  and  in 
the  apple  trees  ;  and  the  birds,  uusinning  Sabbath-breakers,  were 
discussing  and  working  upon  the  architecture  of  their  nests. 

Who  has  not  recognized  in  the  resemblance  of  one  day  to 
iome  other  anniversary  of  soul  or  affections,  an  influence  more 
moving  than  is  exerted  by  a  fac-simile  likeness  of  face  to  face ! 
It,  may  be  the  light  of  a  mellow  autumn  sun,  the  scent  of  ripea- 


MOSS-SIDE.  245 

Ing  orchards,  or  the  spectacle  of  fields  of  billowing  grain,  that 
acts  upon  the  tide  of  feeling.  "  How  like  1"  you  say.  It  is  all 
the  tongue  can  do,  but  memory  is  busy.  What  matter  that  the 
bearded  grass  tinkles  its  seeds  in  paths  you  trod  that  September 
noon  ;  that  brambles  bind  the  clods  above  the  form  then  walk- 
ing or  sitting  beside  you  ;  that  the  orchard  is  now  a  thorough- 
fare, barren  and  dusty,  and  the  fertile  field  a  naked  common  ? 
Ten,  twenty,  fifty  years  are  but  a  second  to  the  leaping  mind-- 
and  you  have  everything  as  it  was  then.  But  were  you  to  stand 
bodily,  at  such  a  time,  upon  the  self-same  spot,  and  with  the 
game  air  and  sky  and  sun,  find  your  other  surroundings 
unchanged,  save  that  you  are  there  alone — this  is  a  concurrence 
of  associations,  a  blending  of  cherished  objects  to  create  a 
blank,  that  racks  the  stoutest  spirit — yet  a  pain,  the  heart 
would  not  exchange,  intense  as  it  is,  for  actual  present  plea- 
sure. 

Such  bitter-sweet  meditations  were  mine.  This  was  the 
counterpart,  in  atmosphere  and  scenery,  of  Frederic's  last  day  at 
the  homestead.  I  recapitulated  its  incidents  ;  sat  with  him  on 
the  brown  bench  ;  hearkened  to  his  pleading,  and  deputed  Duty 
to  reply.  His  concluding  sentence  arrested  me.  "  I  have  too 
recently  began  to  lean  upon  a  higher  power  myself  to  instruct 
you,  but,  dear  sister,  there  is  a  strength  that  revives,  while  it 
supports  ;  not  only  lifts  the  drooping  head,  but  gladdens  the 
sick  heart.  My  hopeful  prayer  is  that  you  may  seek  this." 

In  instant  connection  followed  Molly's,  "Save  her  from  the 
second  death  1  This  is  the  blessing  I  ask.  I  will  never  be 
satisfied  without  He  answers  that  prayer." 

"  One  entreated  consolation  for  me,  the  other  safety,"  I 
mused.  "  Was  their  object  one  ?  if  so,  what  is  it  ?  Why  do 
I  say  to-day  that  these  prayers  are  not  yet  answered  ?" 

To  this  inquiry  I  was  unable  to  reply.  I,  the  offspring  of 
Christian  parents,  dedicated  to  the  Lord  in  my  cradle , 


24:6  M088-8IDB. 

instracted  in  the  faith  learned  in  theological  disquisition^ 
was  as  dumb  as  the  most  benighted  heathen,  when  this  direct 
question  was  propounded.  My  knowledge  of  my  misery,  it  is 
unnecessary  to  repeat,  was  perfect  as  any  lesson  was  likely 
to  be  which  had  been  so  diligently  and  incessantly  conned.  The 
assurance  that  comfort  was  in  store,  if  I  would  seek  it,  was 
soothing — but  why  safety  ?  Why  am  I  endangered  ?  by 
what  r 

"  By  sin,"  replied  my  orthodox  memory. 

"Sin — sin" — I  said,  reflectively.  "As  an  idea,  an  abstrac- 
tion, I  comprehend  it ;  but  what  are  my  offences  against  the 
moral  law  ?  what  transgressions  have  made  me  amenable  to  its 
offended  majesty  ?" 

Then  I  recollected  the  remark  of  a  beggar-woman,  whose 
necessities  I  once  relieved.  Soaked  with  rain,  and  soiled  with 
mud,  she  knocked  at  our  door,  and  spread  before  us  her  pitiful 
case-  e  dying  husband  and  starving  babes.  "  Miss,"  she  said 
to  me,  when  needful  succor  had  been  extended  ;  "I  am  a  sinful 
creatut-e,  I  know,  but  it  does  appear  to  me  that  all  my  punish- 
ment  nuwt  be  in  this  world." 

And  under  this  impression,  I  gathered  the  mangled  remains  of 
the  hopes,  the  blackening  corses  of  the  joys  that  had  walked, 
hand  in  hand  with  me,  in  life's  morning,  and  heaped  them  in  the 
sight  of  Heaven,  a  propitiation  for  my  iniquities.  In  return, 
I  demanded  peace  and  exemption  from  further  chastisement, 
here  and  hereafter.  I  had  beforetime  tried  the  efficacy  of 
meritorious  works — self-denial,  penauce  of  the  flesh — and  the 
structure,  irreproachable  in  my  estimation,  had  been  filled  to 
its  sandy  foundation  by  an  unlooked-for  flood. 

"  All  Thy  waves  and  Thy  billows  have  gone  over  me  !''  1 
prayed.  "  Will  not  they  suffice  to  cleanse  whatever  pollution 
adheres  to  my  soul  ?"  I  sued  not  as  a  beggar,  but  as  one 
who  had  a  right  to  the  privileges  of  the  children  of  the  Kiiijr 


MOSS     SIDE.  247 

dom.  The  filling  longs,  the  healthful  bound  of  the  bUod,  the 
re-struiig  muscles  had  acted  sympathetically  upon  the  mental 
system.  I  was  tired  of  a  monotony  of  grief,  and  graciously 
willing  to  accept  what  degree  of  happiness  I  had  capacity  tc 
tujoy,  ready  for  a  change,  and  since  an  external  one  was  impro 
bable,  this  introversion  of  vision  was  most  natural.  The  consi 
deration  of  insurance  against  danger — "the  second  death"  of 
Molly's  prayer — was  secondary  to  that  of  temporal  tranquillity. 
Nor  do  I  believe  that  signal  deliverance  from  peril  predisposes 
the  heart  to  repentance,  makes  it  a  better  absorbent  of 
Divine  truth,  after  the  peril  is  over.  If  while  I  had  stood  at 
the  entrance  of  the  dark  valley,  my  position  had  been  described 
to  me,  I  would  have  quailed  in  mortal  fear  ;  but  now.  that  every 
step  carried  me  further  from  the  frowning  gates,  the  remem- 
brance that  I  had  well-nigh  passed  them  begot  hardihood,  not 
gratitude.  It  is  this  rarely-absent  peculiarity  of  human  nature 
that  causes  its  students  to  sigh  in  doubt,  scarcely  removed  from 
hopelessness,  over  what  are  called  "death-bed  repentances  ;w 
and  the  histories  of  a  large  proportion  of  those  who  have 
recovered  after  such  an  experience,  add  powerful  testimony  to 
the  truth  of  this  opinion.  Unswayed,  then,  by  fear,  unmoved 
by  a  review  of  the  mercy  which  my  sable  instructress  had  told 
me,  "  deserved  everlasting  praises  from  my  mouth,"  I  asked  a 
renewal  of  heart  and  conduct — regeneration — while  I  secretly 
ignored  its  necessity  ;  reformation,  while  I  held  my  daily  walk 
and  conversation  to  be  worthy  of  a  sanctified  believer. 

The  sun  shone  ;  the  birds  sang  ;  the  bees  hummed — and 
"  through  Nature  "  I  strove  to  "  look  up  to  Nature's  God."  Gen- 
tle, faithful  teachers  are  her  voices  to  him  whose  ears  have  been 
first  opened  to  the  accents  of  heavenly  wisdom  ;  who  traces 
everywhere  the  signet  of  his  Father  ;  hears  in  every  breeze 
whispered  messages  of  that  Father's  love.  To  the  carnal  and 
ouspiritual,  this  book  of  revelation  is  in  a  dead  language.  My 


248  MOSS-SIDE. 

prayers  aseeuded  no  higher  than  my  head  ;  the  aspirations  i 
labored  to  make  devout,  were  disjointed  lip-service,  interrupted 
by  wandering  thoughts  and  fits  of  forgetfulness,  leading  me  off 
and  away  from  the  golden  ladder,  I  tried  to  vision  from  earth  tc 
the  foot  of  the  throne. 

"  I  do  not  progress  an  inch,"  I  said,  at  last,  in  fretful  dis- 
couragement. "  My  mind  grows  more  misty  ;  ray  heart  more 
cold.  Yet  there  must  be  some  meaning  in  the  theme  that 
engages  so  many  lofty  intellects  and  melts  the  hardest  hearts — 
the  reconcilement  of  man  to  God." 

The  rattle  of  carriage  wheels  disturbed  my  solitude,  and  toned, 
clearer,  more  sweet  than  the  bird-music  were  heard.  "  Aunti? 
dear  !  where  are  you  ?" 

"I  will  ask  Lilly,"  I  rooked,  as  I  obeyed  the  call 


XOSB-SIDE.  249 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

IT  TTR»  Lilly's  practice  to  resort  to  my  chamber  when  dinner 
was  dispatched  on  Sabbath  afternoons,  and,  when  after  a  deten- 
tion of  half  an  hour  in  my  aunt's  room,  I  went  to  my  own,  I 
expected  confidently  to  see  the  demure  little  figure  in  her  rock- 
ing-chair in  the  chimney  corner,  intent  upon  a  volume  of  Scripture 
glories,  or  something  else  from  her  "  Sunday  library,"  as  she  had 
named  the  uppermost  of  her  book  shelves. 

The  chair  was  vacant ;  the  books  untouched.  I  seated 
myself  to  wait,  doubting  not  that  a  few  minutes  would  bring  her 
to  her  post.  Fifteen  loitered  by,  and  full  of  my  scheme,  I  was 
impatient  of  the  unreasonable  delay.  I  sauntered  to  the  win- 
dow overlooking  the  kitchen-yard  and  its  background  of  cabins 
In  the  largest  of  these,  which  was  tenanted  by  John's  mother,  1 
saw,  through  the  door,  a  circle  of  dusky  forms  surrounding  mj 
missing  fairy.  Her  head  was  bending  towards  the  book  from 
which  she  read — a  book,  I  knew  at  that  distance,  for  her  Bible— 
and  on  the  still  air  an  occasional  reverent  cadence  arose  to  my 
window.  I  compared  this  scene  with  the  formal  readings  my 
aunt  used  to  hold  on  the  evening  of  the  hallowed  Jay  ;  the 
upright,  uneasy  postures  of  the  victims  ranged  around  the  diniug- 
room  ;  nay,  with  my  unsuccessful  endeavors  to  secure  punctual 
tteudance  when,  to  fill  up  every  hour  with  tasks,  I  appointed 
meetings  for  a  like  purpose.  The  seriously-inclined,  the  church- 
members,  mostly  the  middle-aged  and  the  old,  were  always  in 
their  places  ;  but  the  ear  of  the  vouriger  ones,  the  belles  «ud 
11* 


250  MCBS-8IDE. 

beaux,  and  the  children  I  could  never  gain.  A  group  of  these 
last  sat  upon  their  heels  on  the  ground  in  front  of  Lilly ; 
Martha  and  Milly,  the  smartest  coquettes  on  the  plantation,  stood 
at  the  back  of  her  chair,  decorous  and  unsmiling,  although  more 
than  one  gallant  visitor  was  in  the  audience  ;  and  the  harura 
ecarum  Joe,  arrayed  for  a  courting  expedition,  permitted  his  pet 
cane  to  be  stolen,  as  it  dangled  from  his  finger,  and  converted 
Into  a  hobby-horse  by  a  sly  rogue,  not  out  of  his  petticoats, 
while  the  colored  Brummel  leaned  within  the  door,  one  foot  upon 
the  step,  his  hand  supporting  his  chin  in  an  attitude  of  charmed 
attention. 

"  '  A  little  child  shall  lead  them/  "  I  found  myself  repeating. 
1 0  for  their  impressible  natures  and  her  nndoubting  faith  1" 

When  her  step  sounded  on  the  stair,  I  was  reclining,  with  my 
habitual  air  of  lassitude,  upon  the  lounge,  a  book  closed  upon 
my  finger,  as  if  I  had  been  studying. 

"  Where  have  you  been,  Lilly  ?"  I  inquired,  carelessly. 

"  To  Aunt  Amy's  cabin,"  she  said,  a  slight  glow  coloring  her 
brow. 

"  She  must  have  been  very  entertaining  to  keep  you  SQ  long," 
I  said,  but  without  rebuke. 

She  paused,  then  answered  Srmly,  as  if  to  overcome  the  rising 
shyness,  "  I  have  been  reading,  Auntie — reading  from  the  Bible. 
They  cannot  learn  much  in  it  for  themselves — that  is,  most  of 
them  cannot." 

"  You  are  very  right,  dear.  You  could  not  have  been  better 
employed.  Is  this  the  only  time  you  have  done  this  ?" 

"  No,  ma'am.  Grandpapa  said  he  had  no  objection  ;  that  he 
quite  approved  of  the  plan,  so  I  go  out  whenever  they  send  for 
me,  and  then  you  see,  Auntie  dear,  there  is  no  danger  or'  my 
putting  myself  in  their  way." 

"  How  happened  you  to  think  of  this  first  ?"  asked  I. 

"  While  you  were  at  Mrs.  Bell's  I  read  a  good  deal  to  Aunl 


MOSS-SIDE  251 

Agnes,  and  as  one  of  the  servants  stayed  constantly  in  the 
room,  several  of  them  heard  me,  and  one  Sunday,  Milly  brought 
me  word  from  her  mother  that  they  would  like  to  hear  a  chaptei 
or  two  from  the  Bible,  and  I  went." 

Her  somewhat  anxious  vindication  of  herself  from  the  EUR 
picion  of  officiousness,  and  her  lowly  hearers  from  any  personal 
partiality  in  their  choice  of  a  reader,  was  at  once  interesting  and 
amusing. 

"  I,  too,  have  a  favor  to  ask,"  said  I.  "  Are  you  too  tired 
to  read  to  me,  just  as  you  have  been  doing  to  the  servants  ?" 

"  No,  indeed,  ma'am,  if  you  wish  to  hear  me." 

She  spoke  diffidently,  and  I  accounted  for  the  request  by  say- 
ing, "  My  head  feels  badly,  and  the  sound  of  your  voice  will 
relieve  it." 

"  That  is  so  like  mamma  1"  exclaimed  she.  "  She  often  set 
me  to  read  for  her  when  she  was  sick,  too  restless  to  lie  quiet 
or  to  sleep,  and  then  she  would  have  no  book  except  the 
Bible.  If  she  were  easier,  and  strong  enough  to  hold  the  book 
herself,  the  one  that  she  liked  next  best  was  '  Rutherford's  Let- 
ters ;'  but  I  could  not  understand  that  so  well.  She  said  the 
Bible  soothed  her  better  than  medicine." 

I  felt  like  a  convicted  hypocrite  as  this  artless  parallel  was 
drawn.  Lilly  was  turning  the  leaves  of  her  precious  volume. 

"She  marked  ever  so  many  chapters  that  we  studied 
together.  Have  you  any  choice,  Auntie,  or  shall  I  read  you  one 
of  her  favorites  ?" 

"I  shall  like  it,  I  am  sure,"  I  said.  "Begin  where  yoi 
please." 

Her  selection  was  the  portion  containing  the  parables  of  the 
ten  virgins  and  the  talents  delivered  to  the  three  servants,  and 
my  personal  application  of  the  moral  of  each  was,  on  the  whole, 
satisfactory  to  my  self-love.  I  was  not  drowsy  or  slothful.  If 
my  lamp  were  not  trimmed  and  burning,  it  was  not  beoause  J 


252  M  C  S  8  -  8  I  D  E  . 

nad  spared  any  pains  to  procure  oil — and  was  I  not  searching  foi 
tight  even  now  ?  My  talents,  by  which  I  understood,  not  only 
the  mental  endowments  generally  so  called,  but  all  opportunities 
for  doing  good — I.  had  exerted  to  the  utmost  in  my  limited 
sphere.  Had  it  not  passed  into  a  proverb  that  my  labors  of  dis- 
interested benevolence  were  undermining  youth  and  health  ? 
The  Pharisee  spirit  advanced  a  step  nearer  the  Holy  of  Holies, 
Mid  spiced  its  petition,  or,  more  properly  speaking,  its  demand, 
with  a  boastful  show  of  good  works. 

Lilly  was  reading  more  slowly  when  my  thoughts  fixed  them- 


"  '  He  is  despised  and  rejected  of  men  ;  a  man  of  sorrows  and 
acquainted  with  grief ;  and  we  hid,  as  it  were,  our  faces  from 
him  ;  he  was  despised  and  we  esteemed  him  not. 

" '  Surely  ' — and  there  was  a  feeling,  although  involuntary 
stress  laid  upon  the  word — "  '  Surety  he  hath  borne  our  griefs  and 
carried  our  sorrows  ;  yet  we  did  esteem  him  stricken,  smitten  of 
God  and  afflicted. 

" '  But  he  was  wounded  for  our  transgressions  ;  he  was  bruised 
for  our  iniquities  ;  the  chastisement  of  our  peace  was  laid  upon 
him,  and  with  his  stripes  we  are  healed. 

"  '  All  we,  like  sheep,  have  gone  astray  ;  we  have  turned  every 
one  to  his  own  way,  and  the  Lord  hath  laid  on  him  the  iniquity 
of  us  all.'" 

Her  voice  sank  almost  to  a  whisper  as  she  proceeded  with  the 
sublimely  mournful  prophecy,  and  when  it  was  finished,  she  did 
not  offer  to  follow  it  with  another  chapter.  Her  stool  was  by 
the  head  of  my  resting-place,  she  leaned  back  out  of  the  range 
•f  sight,  and  laid  her  forehead  against  the  cushions. 

I  took  the  book  from  her,  and  read  for  myself  the  page  that 
bad  pierced  my  soul. 

"  He  was  wounded  for  our  transgressions  ;  he  was  bnised  for 
*r  iniquities." ' 


M  O  S  S  -  8  I  D  E  .  253 

'  For  mine  ?"  I  inly  questioned.  "  What  was  my  share  ill 
this  iatolerable  chastisement  ?" 

"  We  have  turned  every  one  to  his  own  way."  A  lambent  flama* 
seemed  to  leap  along  each  letter. 

My  "  own  way  ?"  I  had  chosen  it ;  turned  to  it ;  persisted 
in  it ;  been  torn  by  its  thorns  ;  suffocated  in  its  quagmires  ; 
lashed  by  its  furies — had  clung  to  my  muck-rake,  which  only 
heaped  up  miserable  garbage — odious  poisons — while,  from  the 
strait  way  beyond,  beckoned  this  loving  One,  borne  down  by  my 
griefs,  carrying  my  sorrows,  yet  loving  still — entreating  still — 
and  when,  at  the  Father's  chastisement,  I  plunged  on  in  my  mad 
course,  even  more  reckless  of  danger  or  His  pitying  call — 
lamenting,  with  more  than  a  mother's  yearning  over  her  wander- 
ing child — "You  will  not  come  unto  me  that  you  may  have 
life  I" 

"  Lilly,"  I  said,  breaking  the  troubled  silence,  "  did  your 
mamma  ever  explain  this  chapter  to  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am — often." 

Less  ignorantly,  but  as  earnestly  as  inquired  the  Ethiopian 
prince  concerning  the  same  passages,  I  asked — "  Of  whom  did 
she  say  that  the  prophet  is  here  speaking  ?" 

She  did  not  mistrust  my  design,  but  was  not  so  simple  as  to 
be  imposed  upon  by  my  affected  want  of  knowledge.  Thinking 
that  I  intended  to  examine  her  upon  this  one  of  her  early  les- 
sons, she  replied  promptly,  "  Of  Our  Saviour." 

I  should  have  said,  "  Of  Christ,"  and  in  the  very  common 
*orm  of  expression  she  employed,  I  felt  the  power  of  a  new 
beauty,  a  richer  depth  of  meaning. 

Availing  myself  of  her  willingness  to  be  catechised,  I  contin 
ued — "  When  were  these  prophecies  fulfilled  ?" 

This  was  too  general  a  question.  She  asked  me  for  her  boob 
before  she  could  reply,  and  the  perplexity  did  not  leave  her 
countenance  after  she  had  re-perused  the  portion  under  inquiry. 


354:  MOSS-SIDE. 

"It  is  lard  to  atswer  you,  Auntie,  without  going  over  it  all, 
a  verse  at  a  time,  and  that  would  tire  you." 

"  Take  as  much  time  as  you  like,  and  tell  me  in  your  own  way, 
dear  " 

"  Mamma  showed  me  that  part  of  this  was  fulfilled  while  Ouf 
Saviour  was  upon  earth — in  His  works  and  sufferings,  and  hia 
being  despised  and  rejected  by  the  Jews,  His  own  people,  who 
diil  not  believe  that  He  was  wounded  for  their  transgressions 
and  bruised  for  their  iniquities,  when  He  died  upon  the  cross  to 
Bave  them.  They  thought  that  He  was  smitten  by  God  for  his 
own  sins  ;  that  He  was  as  wicked  as  the  two  thieves  they  cruci- 
fied with  Him  !" 

"  You  said  that  this  partly  fulfilled  the  prediction — how  and 
when  did  the  rest  come  to  pass  ?"  maintaining  my  character  of 
*,atechist. 

"  She  told  me  that  sinners  in  every  quarter  of  the  world  were 
now  rejecting  Him  ;  not  only  the  poor  heathen,  aud  Jews,  and 
Mahometans,  but  in  Christian  countries,  those  that  will  not  take 
Sim  for  their  Saviour,  who  do  not  love  Him  and  pray  to  Him, 
and  trust  Him  to  show  them  the  way  to  heaven." 

"  But  if  they  believe  that  He  is  the  son  of  God,  and  every- 
thing else  that  the  Bible  teaches,  and  break  none  of  His  com« 
mandments,  yet  are  not  Christians — what  then  ?" 

"  They  cannot  keep  the  commandments  unless  they  are  His 
children  and  He  helps  them,"  she  replied,  confidently.  "  I  don't 
mean  that  they  will  lie,  and  steal,  and  kill — but  you  know,  Auntie 
dear,  a  Christian  must  do  a  great  deal  besides." 

"  Must  he  ?  what  ?" 

"  Why,  Auntie  !  you  talk  as  seriously  as  if  you  were  not 
million  times  better  and  wiser  than  I  am." 

I  winced,  but  kept  my  ground.  "  I  want  to  hear  your  ideas 
Lilly.  You  must  not  forget  something  else  you  once  told  me  of 
your  mamma's  teachings  " 


MOSS-SIDE.  26i 

"  I  remember  I  remember  !  She  said  I  most  learn  to  express 
toy  thoughts,  and  be  able  to  tell  what  I  know,  so  that  others 
can  understand  me.  I  have  a  notion  about  your  question — one 
of  my  own.  Will  you  hear  that  ?" 

"  I  had  rather  have  it  than  any  borrowed  one,"  rejoined  I. 

She  was  speaking  from  the  heart,  not  reciting  now. 

"  You  saved  my  life  last  February,  Auntie,  dear — almost  died 
to  do  it.  What  would  you  or  anybody  else  say  if  I  were  nevei 
to  thank  you  for  it ;  if  I  did  not  love  you  better  than  I  ever  did 
before,  and  loved  twenty  other  people  just  in  the  same  way  ;  if 
I  were  to  run  off  every  morning  because  I  did  not  like  to  stay 
with  you,  and  spend  all  the  day  in  the  woods  with  naughty 
children  who  hated  you,  and  whom  you  had  forbidden  me  to  play 
with  ;  if  I  were  not  to  think  of  you  oftener  than  I  could 
help  ;  and  when  I  came  home  at  night,  should  eat  the  supper 
you  had  fixed  and  go  to  sleep  in  your  bed  without  speaking  to, 
or  kissing  you  ?  Why  I  would  be  worse  than  Sancho,  for  you 
can't  coax  him  from  me  ;  he  follows  me  everywhere,  and  says 
thank  you '  as  plainly  as  a  dog  can." 

"Very  well!"  I  said.     "Goon!" 

"  The  Saviour  has  done  more  for  us  than  you  could  ever  do 
for  me.  He  died  to  save  us  from  everlasting  punishment ;  He 
gives  us  our  lives,  and  homes,  and  friends,  and  when  we  are 
nicked  and  srn  against  God,  He  begs  Him  to  forgive  us.  Mam- 
ma said  that  was  the  meaning  of  His  making  intercession  for 
the  transgressors.  Oh  1"  she  added,  holy  fervor  outspeaking 
in  eye  and  voice — "He  is  so  good  1  'the  chief  among  ten  thou 
sand,  and  altogether  lovely  !'  and  I  do  love  Hun  with  all  my 
soul — don't  you,  Auntie  ?" 

"  I  am  afraid  not,  Lilly." 

The  child  gazed  at  me  in  utter  amazement — incredulity,  won- 
der, grief,  chasing  each  other  over  her  truth-telling  face  ;  and 
when  1  sustained  the  lock  with  a  gravity  that  forbade  the  sup 


256  MOBS-SIDE. 

position  that  I  was  jesting,  or  wished  to  try  her  faith,  she  burst 
into  tears,  and  threw  herself  down  beside  me. 

"  Auntie  !  dearest  Auntie  1  you  were  not  in  earnest  !  Please 
take  it  back  !» 

"  I  cannot,  Lilly.  T  would  not  have  said  it,  if  I  had  dreamed 
that  it  would  have  affected  you  so,  but  I  spoke  the  truth.  For- 
ive  me,  love." 

She  kissed  me,  and  sobbed,  instead  of  speaking. 

"  You  will  hate  me  now  you  know  how  wicked  I  am,"  I  said, 
even  in  that  moment,  thinking  more  of  the  loss  of  her  love  than 
of  the  cause  of  her  grief. 

"  No  !  no  !"  winding  her  arm  around  my  neck  ;  "  but  I  am 
so  sjorry  !  I  thought,  I  thought" 

"  That  Auntie  was  a  Christian,"  I  supplied  what  she  could  not 
articulate. 

"  Do  not  cry  so  bitterly,  darling  !  Perhaps  you  can  help 
to  make  her  one." 

She  started  up,  "If  I  could!  but  I  cannot  do  anything — • 
nobody  on  earth  can  I  Won't  you  pray  to  our  Saviour  td 
teach  you  to  love  Him  ?  Don't  you  want  to  be  one  of  His  peo- 
ple r 

"  Indeed  I  do,  Lilly  !"  and  I  uttered  it  in  deep  sincerity. 

Her  beloved  Bible  was  again  her  resource.  A  drop  from  hei 
wet  lashes  fell  among  its  leaves,  as  she  hurriedly  sought  the 
texts  she  wanted. 

" '  Come  now  and  let  us  reason  together,  saith  the  Lord. 
Though  your  sins  be  as  scarlet,  they  shall  be  white  as  snow  ; 
though  they  be  red  like  crimson,  they  shall  be  as  wool. 

"  'Ask,  and  ye  shall  receive  ;  seek,  and  ye  shall  find  j  knock, 
»nd  it  shall  be  opened  unto  yon. 

"  '  Him  that  cometh  unto  me,  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out. 

"  He  loves  you,,  dear  Auntie  !"  was  her  comment,  in  teadel 
reproach,  as  she  rested  her  head  upon  my  shoulder. 


MOBS-BIDE.  257 

'•  I  will  try  to  be  what  yon  wish,  dear  one  1"  I  murmured, 
aumbled  to  a  sense  of  the  nature  of  the  state  which  had  pro- 
duced such  pain  for  this  innocent,  right-hearted  child.  Thil 
agitation,  flowing  from  a  cause  apparently  so  unlikely  to  create 
it  in  one  of  her  age,  would  have  struck  me  as  unnatural  had  I 
seen  it  in  any  other  person.  Nor,  with  my  thorough  knowledge 
of  her  religious  training,  her  conscientious  observance  of  sacred 
duties,  her  extreme  tenderness  of  feeling,  had  I  anticipated  the 
shock  my  declaration  would  give  her.  I  had  no  doubt  of  her 
piety,  whether  she  had  been  sanctified  in  her  earliest  infancy,  or 
her  plastic  nature  been  gradually  moulded  by  the  Spirit  oi 
Grace,  under  the  teachings  of  the  mother,  whose  last  month? 
had  been  devoted  to  her.  My  error  was  in  overlooking  the  fee* 
that  she  had  never  been  instigated  to  seek  examples  of  the  class 
of  so-called  "  Christian  "  unbelievers,  she  had  portrayed.  "  Mam- 
ma "  had  informed  her  that  there  were  such,  and  it  was  entered 
as  a  clause  of  her  creed.  Her  own  experience  had  furnished 
her  with  an  imaginary  illustration  of  how  this  anomaly  might 
exist  ;  but  in  her  abounding  charity,  she  attributed  a  partner- 
ship in  her  Faith  to  every  one  she  knew  and  liked.  The  di0- 
covery  that  she,  to  whom  she  had  transferred  the  affection 
and  duties  she  had  paid  her  mother  during  her  life-time,  was  a 
stranger  to  the  love  she  esteemed  essential  to  earthly  happi- 
ness and  future  bliss,  confounded  her. 

She  dried  her  eyes,  and,  with  admirable  tact,  endeavored  to 
reassure  me  of  .her  love,  without  adverting  to  what  had  occa- 
sioned pain  on  both  sides.  She  even  clung  to  me  with  increased 
devotion,  a  sort  of  tender  anxiety,  as  if  she  would  contribute 
her  utmost  to  fill  the  void  in  my  heart.  All  the  evening,  she 
was  quiet  and  grave,  replying  readily  and  sweetly  to  whatever 
was  spoken  to  her,  following  me  with  a  wistful;  loving  gaze 
Nor  did  the  shadow  pass  as  it  had  fallen — in  a  moment.  Morn- 
;j)g  and  night  as  she  knelt  to  present  petitions  inaudible  to  racr 


$58  MOSS-SIDE. 

tal  hearing,  I  knew  that  the  sigh  and  tear  mingled  with  that 
prayer  were  for  me,  and  redoubled  my  self-accusations  at  the 
reflection  of  my  unworthiness  of  such  an  intercessor.  It  was  a 
baby-hand  that  grasped  my  skirts,  but  no  afflictive  judgment 
had  so  hindered  my  downward  course. 

Imperceptibly,  slowly,  her  mission  was  accomplished.  It  was 
not  a  child-seer,  a  creation  seraphic  and  sinless,  that  turned  my 
feet,  but  a  creature  of  earthly  birth  ;  inheritor  of  our  human 
frailties  ;  sportsome  in  her  childish  mirth  as  her  pet  lamb  ;  yet 
one  whom  the  Saviour  of  babes  and  men  had  taken  in  His  arms 
and  blessed.  Led  by  her,  I  came,  broken  in  spirit,  though  not 
by  temporal  woes  ;  a  suitor  for  pardon,  not  for  present  ease  ; 
and  cast  myself  where  she  delighted  to  bow — at  the  bieeding 
feet  of  the  Crucified,  to  experience  the  fullness  of  the  promises  so 
those  who  "  shall  receive  tlw*  Kingdom  of  God  as  &  little 


M  O  8  6-  6  I  D  E. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THI  burning  heats  of  the  dog-days  were  diversified  by  heat) 
rains  ;  vegetation  was  rank,  premature  in  growth  and  in  de- 
cay. When  the  sun  was  not  cloaked  by  clouds,  he  extracted 
from  marsh,  and  water-course,  and  sodden  meadows,  steaming  va 
pors,  reeking  with  pestilence.  In  what  form  the  Destroyer 
would  appear  amongst  us  could  not  be  foretold,  but  we  looked 
forward  with  certainty  to  a  sickly  season.  Sanitary  rules  were 
in  force  upon  every  plantation  ;  a  strict  watchfulness  was  exer- 
cised over  the  improvident  menials  whom  no  danger,  prospective 
or  present,  can  incite  to  care  for  themselves. 

The  storm  broke  alarmingly  near  to  us.  Lilly  and  myself  went 
over,  in  the  cool  of  the  early  forenoon,  to  stay  until  evening  with 
Annie  Bell.  I  had  not  heard  from  her  for  several  days,  and 
doubted  not  that  everything  was  going  on  well  at  the  cottage. 

"  Why,  Auntie  1"  exclaimed  Lilly,  as  we  came  in  sight  of  it  , 
"  there  is  Dr.  Hamner's  horse  tied  to  the  rack  1" 

She  was  correct.  There  was  no  mistaking  the  gaunt,  hard- 
ridden  public-accommodation,  or  the  sheepskin  strapped  upon  the 
Baddle. 

His  owner  stopped  us  at  the  gate  on  his  way  oat. 

"  Good  morrow,  young  ladies  !"  in  his  briskest  style.  "  Upoi 
nay  soul,  Grace,  you  begin  to  play  the  Rose  to  this  Lilly." 

"  Is  any  one  sick  here,  doctor  ?"  I  questioned. 

"  It  is  going  to  be  a  hot  day — broiling  !  and  I  have  to  take 
whatever  comes,  if  it  cooks  my  brains.  Never  marry  a  doctor, 
Miss  Lilly,  unless  you  think  *  widow's  cap  becoming  to  yotu 


260  M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  K  . 

order  of  beauty.  Human  life  is  uncertain,  and  death  is  certati 
to  overtake  the  doctors  before  it  reaches  any  other  class  of  men. 
This  has  kept  me  from  marrying — a  sentiment  of  refined  philan- 
thropy that  does  honor  to  the  species — if  I  do  say  it." 

He  stood  in  our  path,  and  unable  to  obtain  the  intelligence  by 
my  own  observation,  I  pushed  him  again  with  the  anxious  query, 
'  Who  is  sick  here,  sir  ?" 

"  Ah,  yes  !  I  beg  your  pardon  for  obliging  you  to  repeat  the 
inquiry.  I  am  growing  forgetful  in  my  old  age.  It  is  the  old 
woman,  and  a  bad  time  she  is  having  of  it  1" 

"  Not  Mrs.  Bell  1"  I  ejaculated. 

"Och  1  botheration  1  Did  you  ever  see  me  so  forgetful  of  the 
forms  of  decency,  whatever  might  be  the  exigency,  as  to  deno- 
minate a  respectable,  middle-aged  matron,  with  a  pretty  daugh- 
ter, too — an  '  old  woman  ?'  I  allude  to  the  wife  of  the  Lord 
Paramount  of  these  premises." 

"  Aunt  Molly  ?     Is  she  very  ill  ?" 

"  Much  nearer  her  end  than  I  thought  you  were  to  yours,  last 
winter,  when  I  perjured  myself  by  swearing  that  I  believed  you 
would  outlive  me.  You  may  yet,  in  spite  of  that  prophecy  ; 
but  if  she  is  alive  to-night,  I  shall  be  surprised.  Here  I"  for  I 
was  undoing  the  gate  with  impetuous  haste  ;  "  you  need  not  rush 
in  to  deliver  my  verdict.  Not  two  minutes  since  I  comforted 
old  Zack  by  the  adage  we  physicians  are  obliged  to  wear  into 
flimsy  tatters — '  While  there  is  life  there  is  hope  !'  Hold  on,  I 
say  1"  himself  holding  the  latch  down  with  a  grip  like  a  vice. 
"  After  this,  do  you  and  that  lily-of-the-valley  of  yours  keep  your 
weak  little  bodies  housed  in  the  heat  of  the  day,  cr  I  shall  jave 
more  practice  than  I  want.  Live  ligntly — not  starvingly,  under- 
tand  1  but  prudently  ;  laugh  as  often,  and  mope  as  seldom  aa 
your  sentimentalism  will  allow.  My  respects  to  your  negroes, 
one  and  all,  and  tell  them  I  will  poison — '  trick,'  as  they  would 
§ay — every  one  that  makes  himself  sick.  Take  no  mediciue,  aud 


M  O  8  8  -  8  I  \>  K  .  261 

above  all,  avoid  the  sunshine  We  are  going  to  have  rare  works 
here  this  summer.  Do  you  hear  me,  or  are  you  so  wrapped  up 
in  your  concern  for  dear  old  Aunt  Moly,  as  to  be  unmindful  of 
your  own  danger  ?" 

"  I  hear  you,  sir,  and  thank  you  ;"  but  I  was  trembling  in 
every  limb,  and  knew  that  Lilly's  white,  shocked  face  was  a  re- 
flection of  mine. 

"  That  is  well  1  Stay  here  until  evening.  There  is  nothing 
contagious  in  this  disease.  Don't  be  scared  into  ever  believing 
that  there  is.  Annie  wants  you  badly,  too.  As  for  old  Molly, 
if  we  were  all  as  fit  to  die  as  she  is,  it  would  be  better  to  take 
the  same  conveyance,  without  regard  to  terms.  Heaven  pre- 
serve you  both  1  You  have  kept  me  here  listening  to  you  too 
long  already.  Bless  these  women's  tongues,  I  say  !" 

The  house  was  empty,  but  Annie  met  me  in  the  back  porch, 
her  eyes  inflamed  with  weeping. 

"  You  know,  then  ?"  she  said,  as  the  fervency  of  my  embrace 
testified  my  sympathy. 

"  Yes  ;  I  have  seen  the  doctor." 

"  What  did  he  say  ?" 

"  That  '  while  there  is  life  there  is  hope,' "  employing,  before 
I  thought  of  it,  the  very  phrase  which  had  sounded  like  such 
miserable  comfort  from  him. 

"Just  as  I  feared  !"  she  said,  sadly.  "It  is  all  he  can  say; 
you  will  not  leave  us  to-day,  will  you,  Grace  ?  I  was  wishing 
this  morning  that  I  had  some  means  of  sending  for  you.  I  could 
not  ask  Uncle  Zack  to  go." 

I  regretted  that  Lilly  was  with  me,  for  Aunt  Molly  waa 
/inking  fast,  and  I  was  loth  that  she  should  be  a  spectator  of  the 
pangs  of  dissolution,  hear  the  lament  of  the  bereaved.  She 
divined  my  trouble,  the  instant  I  returned  to  the  room  where  T 
had  left  her,  and  spoke  of  my  visit  to  the  sick  woman. 

"  You  are  afraid  I  will  be  in  the  way,  are  you  not,  Auntie  ?* 
she  inquired. 


262  M  O  8  8-8  I  DE. 

"  Not  just  that,  dear  Lilly.  I  fear  lest  you  should  be  lonely 
Laving  to  stay  in-doors,  or  be  terrified  at  the  idea  of  Aunt 
Molly's  sufferings." 

"  You  must  not  feel  so — must  not  think  one  minute  about  me 
If  I  can  wait  on  you,  help  you  the  least  bit,  yon  will  call  mej 
and  until  you  do,  I  can  sit  here  and  work — for  I  brought  my 
sewing— or  read  ;  and  if  I  get  very  tired,  I  can  go  to  sleep.  I 
will  not  trouble  you." 

"  You  can  never  trouble  any  one,  darling,"  I  responded. 

I  found  books  and  pictures,  and  whistled  to  Sultan,  who  lay 
at  the  door  of  Zack's  cabin.  He  arose  and  obeyed  ;  his  hanging 
head  and  slow  walk  indicative  of  dejection  ;  nor  could  any  arts 
inveigle  him  into  the  house.  He  licked  our  hands,  wagged  his 
tail  in  sorrowful  recognition  of  our  caresses,  sighed,  and  went 
back  to  his  post. 

"  Let  him  stay,  please  1"  pleaded  Lilly,  pityingly.  "  He  is 
too  much  grieved  to  play.  How  strange  that  he  should  know  1" 

Mrs.  Bell  had  been  a  constant  watcher  by  the  bedside  since 
the  beginning  of  her  servant's  illness,  four  days  before,  and  waa 
now  overpersuaded  by  us  to  lie  down  for  an  hour.  Zack  sat  ou 
a  chest  in  the  darkest  corner  of  the  room,  his  forehead  supported 
by  his  clasped  hands — only  echoing,  by  a  suppressed  groan,  the 
moan  pain  forced,  now  and  then,  from  his  patient  wife. 

In  the  scorching  noon- tide,  a  shadow  fell  upon  the  threshold 
Annie  did  not  move  or  look  around,  yet  the  intruder  passed  di 
roctly  to  her  side  and  took  her  hand  before  he  noticed  me 
Molly  opened  her  eyes. 

"  Mars'  Robert  !  it  is  good  in  you  to  come  over  so  often  !  J 
gin  worse  to-day.  I  am  goin'  fast !" 

"  No — no,  Molly  !  I  hope  not !" — he  could  just  say  in  a  choked 
voice,  "  We  cannot  spare  you  yet — we  can't  spare  you  I" 

"  It  does  look  as  if  he " — directing  her  glai  o«  to  Zack'a 
crouching  figure-  -"  and  mistis  couldn't  spar'  me  sure  'nough, 
Mars'  Robert.  1  donno  how  they'll  git  along,  bu<  the 


MOSS-BIDE.  263 

Master  does  ;  He's  fixed  a  way,  or  he  wouldn't  have  called  me 
so  sudden-like.  It's  His  time,  Mars'  Robert !  His  will  be  done  " 
- — and  less  audibly,  she  added — "  in  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven." 

She  was  silent  for  a  minute,  then  joining  her  hands,  repeated 
w  if  she  loved  each  word — 

1  There's  nothing  here  deserves  my  joys, 
There's  nothing  here  like  my  God  !" 

Mrs.  Bell  was  too  uneasy  to  remain  away  more  than  the  exact 
length  of  time  she  had  set,  and  when  she  resumed  her  stand, 
she  observed  a  change  for  the  worse.  Little  refreshment  wai 
partaken  of  by  any  of  us — even  Lilly  refusing  to  eat. 

"  Is  Aunt  Molly  dying  ?"  she  interrogated  me  privately. 

"  I  am  afraid  she  is,  my  love." 

"  Is  she  happy  ?" 

"  Very.     She  is  a  Christian,  and  death  is  not  dreadful." 

"  It  was  not  to  mamma  1"  her  eyes  darker  and  darker 
"  Auntie  I" 

"  What,  dear  ?" 

"  I  should  like  to  send  a  message  by  Aunt  Milly  to  mamma." 

"  My  darling  !"  for  the  request  was  startling. 

"  Why  not  ?"  asked  she.  "  Aunt  Molly  is  going  directly  t> 
heaven — the  same  heaven  where  my  dear  mamma  is.  She  will 
see  her,  and  I  want  her  to  tell  her  that  she  left  me  a  very  short 
time  ago." 

"  But  you  believe  that  your  mamma  is  with  you  very  frequent- 
ly— that  she  watches  over  you  herself." 

"  Yes,  Auntie  ;  but  I  can't  know  it  so  well  as  that  Aunt  Mollj 
rill  meet  her.  This  seems  so  sure  !" 

"  Come,  then  1"  I  yielded. 

She  trod  on  tiptoe  through  the  yard  and  across  the  floor  of 
the  cabin.  Molly's  cheeks  and  eyes  were  hollowed,  but  the  latter 
were  bright,  and  she  spoke  clearly.  A  smile  greeted  Lilly,  who 


26*  M  O  8  8-8  I  D  E. 

put  ber  fingers  into  the  swart  bands,  clammy  with  the  damps  of 
death. 

"  Don't  be  afraid  to  see  Aunt  Molly  die,"  said  the  old  woman. 
"  It  isn't  nigh  so  hard  a  thing  to  go  through  as  folks  think,  when 
the  blessed  Jesus  stands  'pon  the  other  side  of  the  river.  Love 
Him,  honey  !  He  will  never  leave  you  nor  forsake  you." 

Lilly  looked  inquiringly  at  me,  and  I  nodded  assent. 

"Aunt  Molly,"  she  began,  tremulously,  "I  want  you  to  do 
something  for  me.  My  own  mamma  went  to  heaven  eight  • 
months  ago.  You  will  meet  her  when  you  get  there.  Will  you 
talk  to  her  about  me  ;  how  much  I  think  of  her,  and  love  her  ; 
how  happy  I  am  in  my  good  home,  and  that  I  am  trying  to  live 
so  that  I  may  go  to  her  when  I  die  ?" 

The  faith  of  the  dying  Christian  was  as  simple  and  as  strong 
AS  that  of  the  child. 

"  I  will,  dear  !  I'll  look  for  her,  and  find  her,  for  there  '  the 
rich  and  poor  meet  together,'  and  all  sing  one  soLg — '  Worthy 
the  Lamb ' — what  is  the  rest,  Miss  Annie  ?" 

Annie  bent  over  to  wipe  the  wrinkled  brow  and  murmured  in 
Her  ear — "  '  For  Thou  wast  slain,  and  hast  redeemed  us  to  God 
by  Thy  blood  out  of  every  kindred  and  tongue  and  people  and 
aation.' " 

"  Hallelujah  1"  repeated  Molly.  "  I  shan't  need  to  be  told 
what  it  is  when  I've  heard  one  sound  of  the  golden  harps." 

Zack  sank  on  his  knees,  and  buried  his  face  in  the  coverle* 
She  strove  to  raise  her  arm,  and  her  mistress  guided  her  hard 
to  his  head. 

"  We've  been  lived  many  a  year  together,  old  man,"  she  said 
affectionately.  "  A  kind  and  a  faithful,  and  a  hard  workin'  hus 
band  you've  been  to  me  ;  and  if  anybody  but  the  Master  had 
ordered  me  to  leave  you,  I'd  have  hung  to  you  at  the  risic  of  my 
life.  We  won't  be  separated  long,  for  you  aint  young  and  hardy 
— you've  'most  counted  your  three-score  and  ten.  Keep  up  youi 


MOSS     SIDE  265 

heart  and  listen  for  the  chariot  wheels.  They'll  be  along  pre- 
sently.  Watch  and  pray,  for  in  such  an  hour  as  you  think  not, 
the  Son  of  man  cometh." 

She  had  addressed  her  mistress  and  Annie  before  my  entrance, 
and  now  fixed  her  wasting  sight  on  me.  The  words  were  dis- 
tinct, but  the  breath  was  failing. 

"Do  you  mind  what  I  said  to  you  last  spring,  when  you  was 
grttin' well,  Miss  Grace?  I've  prayed  it  ever  sence.  Some- 
times,  Satan  would  cast  me  down  with  sayin'  that  it  was  no 
manner  of  use— you'd  never  come  out  on  the  Lord's  side  ;  but 
says  I—'  The  Lord  meant  her  to  do  something  for  His  glory, 
else  He'd  have  left  her  to  perish  in  the  ice.  Anyhow,  He's  told 
me  to  '  pray  and  pray  again,'  and  I'll  'bey  Him.  I  could  die 
Boutin',  if  I  knowed  you  was  in  the  right  path." 

'«  I  trust  that  I  am,  Aunt  Molly,"  I  said,  softly. 

"  Do  you  love  the  Saviour  ?"  she  asked  with  reviving  energy. 

She  put  her  cold  palms  together  and  gazed  upward.  "  Lord  ! 
now  lettest  Thou  Thy  servant  depart  in  peace,  for  mine  eyes 
have  seen  " 

The  chariot  caught  the  rejoicing  spirit  ere  the  thanksgiving 
was  ended. 

I  sent  Lilly  home  by  Mr.  Peyton,  and  remained  at  the  cottage 
until  the  funeral,  which  took  place  the  next  afternoon.  Only 
the  negroes  from  the  nearest  plantations,  my  father  and  two  01 
three  other  gentlemen,  whom  Mr.  Peyton  had  left  nothing  to  do, 
attended  the  burial.  The  grave  was  in  a  clump  of  trees  back  of 
the  garden,  on  a  hillside  overlooking  the  spring.  As  I  stooa 
apon  the  brink  of  her  narrow  home,  I  could  see  a  bench  set  in 
the  root  of  a  giant  oak,  where  I  had  often  beheld  her  on  wash- 
ing days,  singing  at  her  toil.  Near  it  were  an  empty  tub  and 
the  charred  remains  of  the  fire  she  was  tending,  when  stricken 
with  mortal  sickness.  Zack  was  stationed  at  the  head  of  tk« 
12 


<  MOSS-SIDE. 

yave.  TLe  poor  old  inaii  was  not  noisy  in  lamentation,  bat  the 
salt  rain  trickled  ever  his  furrowed  <heeks,  as,  oblivious  of  what, 
Cvistora  styles  the  "  decencies  of  grief,"  he  neglected  the  handker- 
chief some  officiously  kind  friend  had  thrust  into  his  hand,  and 
oniy  dashed  away  tho  water  as  it  threatened  to  blind  him 
entiiely  to  the  coffin,  the  last  visible  link  that  united  him  to  hei 
he  had  loved  so  well.  Next  him  were  Mrs.  Bell  and  Annie,  weep- 
ing as  tor  a  sister  and  a  mother. 

One  of  Mr.  Peyton's  servants  had  brought  a  Bible,  and  when 
the  b^dv  was  lowered  into  its  place,  his  voice  arose  above  tLe 
sighing  o."  the-  uourners,  the  rustling  of  the  leafy  branches  over- 
head : 

"  But  I  voula  not  have  you  ignorant,  brethren,  concerning 
them  which  or*  adeep,  that  ye  soirow  not  even  as  others  which 
have  no  hope." 

He  read  only  the  few  verses  that,  after  this,  remained  to  the 
end  of  the  chapter  5  but  110  monarch  ever  had  a  grander  funeral 
service.  Then  John's  trumpet  lungs  called  forth  the  echoes  from 
the  nearest  hills.  Lfce  &  soug  cf  victory  after  battle  ascended 
his  prayer  ;  praise  —  aL1  piairse  for  the  translation  of  one  who 
had  received  from  her  He-s^eo  the  "  Enter  thou  into  the  joy  of 
thy  Lord  ;"  an  earnest  plea  fcr  consolation  for  the  afflicted,  and 
that  the  minds  of  the  living  might  be  moved  to  solemn  medita- 
tion by  this  event.  The  rattle  of  the  clods  upon  the  boards  waa 
drowned  by  a  hymn  raised  by  anothbr  colored  man,  for  the  gen- 
tlemen committed  the  conduct  of  the  exercises  wholly  to  t-h" 
friends  and  companions  of  the 


"  Why  do  we  mourn  depart!.,^  ftJeuds?" 

was  sung  with  the  combined  power  of  forty  voice,'  to  the  loaraor 
tal  melody  of  old  "China"  —  music  so  m^r-if-^  **>  tht 
that  it  were  a  crime  ever  to  divorce  th^m. 


M  O  8  6  -  8  I  D  E  .  261 

We  left  her  there  ;  the  dying  glories  of  the  sunset  lighting  up 
the  low  heap  of  red  earth,  where  lay  one  who  should  claim  a 
part  in  the  first  resurrection  ;  on  earth  an  indigent  slave- 
woman  ;  in  Heaven,  the  "  King's  daughter  all  glorious"  without 
.s  "  within." 

Aly  father  had,  early  in  the  day,  sent  over  one  of  his  women, 
s  a  temporary  substitute  for  Mrs.  Bell's  mainstay,  and  Mr. 
Peyton  instructed  his  confidential  body-servant  to  discharge 
Uncle  Zack's  duties  and  minister  to  his  wants  during  the  night. 
The  freshness  of  the  evening  air  tempted  us  to  walk  home  b) 
the  rising  moon,  but  prudence  prevailed.  We  were  learning  tu 
distrust  Nature's  blandest  moods,  and  none  were  more  deceptive 
than  these  cool,  moist  nights,  so  welcome  after  the  sultriness  of 
the  day.  Shut  up  in  a  close  carriage,  my  father,  Mr.  Peyton,  and 
myself  conversed  of  the  death-bed,  and  the  late  interesting  scene; 
of  the  virtues  of  the  departed,  and  the  gap  made  by  her  loss. 

"  Mrs.  Bell  cannot  keep  house  without  her,"  said  my  father 
"  If  she  were  able  to  procure  other  help,  no  three  women  can 
supply  her  place." 

Mr.  Peyton  returned  no  relevant  answer. 

He  followed  me  into  the  hall,  when  I  would  have  gone  to  mj 
aunt. 

"  Grace  1" 

"  What  is  it  ?"  I  asked,  halting. 

"  I  must  go  back  to  Mrs.  Bell's  after  supper.  It  will  not  do 
for  them  to  be  alone  to-night.  Can  you  give  me  five  minutes1 
.-•hat  with  you  presently  ?" 

The  merest  intimation  of  my  wish  would  have  sufficed  for  my 
father.  I  preferred  the  straightest  course.  I  called  him  from  the 
parlor  when  I  was  ready  to  go  in  ;  told  him  frankly  that  Mr 
Peyton  had  something  to  say  to  me  in  private,  and  commissioned 
him  to  delay  supper  until  I  should  signal  *he  conclusion  of  oul 
business. 


268  M  O  S  6  -  S  I  D  E  . 

"  I  can  trust  you  both,"  he  replied,  playfully.  "  I  hare  no 
fear  of  your  flirtations  with  your  great-uncle." 

Neither  had  I,  and  the  embarrassment  of  my  life-time  friend, 
which  would  have  been  alarming  in  most  men,  did  not  stagger 
aay  confidence  in  his  god-fatherly  and  fraternal  attachment. 

"  You  think  me  very  foolish,  I  dare  say,"  he  brought  out  at 
last.  "  I  am  acting  more  like  a  shame-faced  boy  than  a  man 
who  has  numbered  forty-two  years.  It  is  no  boy's  age,  Grace — 
no  1  nor  yet  a  youth's.  I  have  ceased  to  be  young,  that  can« 
not  be  disputed — can't  be  disputed  !" 

"  You  are  in  your  prime  yet,"  I  responded,  "  and  the  heart  ia 
not  old.  Many  lads  of  eighteen  are  more  blast  in  feeling. 
You  will  always  be  young,  Mr.  Peyton." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  Let  that  be  as  it  may,  can  you  justify 
me,  with  my  almost  half  a  century,  for  wishing  to  wed  a  girl 
twenty  years  my  junior  ?" 

This  was  coming  to  the  point,  assuredly  ;  and  my  father, 
although  intrenched  against  suspicion  behind  his  belief  in  our 
relation  of  adopted  uncle  and  niece,  would  have  been  startled 
from  his  fancied  security  by  this  abrupt  approach  to  a  personal 
application  of  the  case  under  consideration.  My  woman's  wit 
interfered  to  save  me  from  a  mistake  so  mortifying. 

"  If  she  loves  you,  Mr.  Peyton,  she  will  not  consider  this  dis- 
parity otherwise  than  as  a  reason  why  she  should  trust  you  the 
mere  ;  will  be  thankful  that  your  experience  can  cover  her  want 
of  it." 

lie  looked  at  me  approvingly.  "  What  judges  you  women 
ire  of  each  other  1  Why,  that  is  just  what  she  says  1" 

"  And  in  virtue  of  our  coincidence  of  views,  may  I  not  knovr 
who 'she 'is?" 

"  Cannot  you  guess  ?"  with  heightened  complexion. 

"  Annie  Bell,"  said  I.     "  She  is  the  nearest,  so  I  begin  wit! 


MOSS-SIDE  269 

"  You  need  go  no  farther,"  was  his  reply,  Lis  diffidence 
vanishing  instantly.  "  I  love  her,  Grace,  and  she  has  eugageJ 
to  marry  me." 

"  From  my  very  soul  I  congratulate  you  1"  I  said.  "  She  it 
admirably  adapted  to  you.  You  cannot  fail  to  be  happy 
together." 

"  Thank  you.     I  know  your  mutual  affection." 

He  was  grave,  but  happy  withal.  "I  shall  be  a  different 
married  man  now  from  the  lover-husband  of  fifteen  years  ago  ; 
less  impulsive,  less  sanguine,  less  demonstrative  of  my  fondness^ 
but  not  less  fond.  Twelve  lonely  winters  have  I  lived  at  Lin- 
den ;  lived  in  the  memory  of  my  first  love  ;  nor  is  her  image  to- 
day dimmed  by  the  hopes  that  are  chasing  the  gloom  from  mj 
heart.  Annie  would  not  esteem  me,  were  this  so — I  know  she 
would  not  1  I  do  no£  apologize  for  marrying  again.  I  should 
scorn  to  excuse  myself  for  loving  and  marrying  her.  The  world 
may  call  me  foolish  and  her  mercenary  " 

"  She  is  not  that  1"  I  interposed. 

"  I  agree  with  you.  We  who  have  known  her  from  her 
cradle,  may  dismiss  misgivings  on  that  score.  That  she  has 
come  to  love  me  I  am  bound  to  credit,  for  she  has  confessed  it, 
and  her  truthful  tongue  could  not  utter  a  falsehood.  Why  she 
has  done  this,  is  a  mystery  I  never  expect  to  solve." 

"  It  is  comprehensible  to  me,"  I  smiled.  "  I  would  enlighten 
you,  were  it  not  that  you  would  quit  the  house  before  I  was  half 
through." 

Aunt  Molly's  death  would,  he  thought,  serve  him  as  an  argu- 
ment for  hastening  the  nuptials.  The  day,  and  indeed  the  month 
Were  not  yet  fixed,  for  their  engagement  was  but  three  weeks 
old.  There  was  only  an  indefinite  understanding  that,  by  win- 
ter, the  cottage  should  be  closed  and  its  establishment  transferred 
to  Linden.  Our  five  minutes  was  spun  out  to  sixty,  and  after  tea 
our  conference  was  resumed 


270  MOSS-SIDE 


"  By  the  way   Grace,"  he  came  back  to  say,  when  his 
was  brought  up  at  his  order  ;  "  you  may  give  your  father  a  hint 
of  the  position  of  affairs.     You  and  he  are  our  best  friends  " 

Without  this  pretext,  it  had  been  my  purpose  to  visit  n^ 
father's  chamber  before  retiring.  His  affectionate  "  Come  in, 
my  dear/'  answered  my  knock  at  the  door.  He  was  reading  lj 
his  study  table,  but  shut  the  book  with  an  expression  of  plea- 
sure. 

"  How  is  my  daughter  to-night  ?"  he  inquired,  taking  my  hand 
as  I  stood  by  him.  "  You  have  had  much  to  weary  you  since 
yesterday  morning." 

"  I  am  not  wearied,  however,"  I  replied. 

My  conduct  to  him  had  sensibly  altered  with  my  changed 
feelings  ;  yet  something,  a  nameless  but  stubborn  bar,  had,  up 
to  this  time,  prevented  a  complete  restoration  of  our  old  free- 
dom. The  wall  crumbled  more  and  more  now,  and  had  it  been 
adamant,  I  would  have  brought  every  art  affection  and  religion 
could  suggest,  to  bear  against  it. 

"  Well  ?"  he  said,  throwing  back  his  head  that  he  might  see 
my  countenance,  and  smiling  in  his  genial  way.  "Has  Mr.  Pey- 
ton gone  ?  Has  he  proposed  and  been  accepted  ?  and  when  is 
tbe  bridal  to  be  consummated  ?" 

"  Too  many  questions  at  once  1"  I  made  an  effort  and  seated 
myself  upon  his  knee.  "  Mr.  Peyton  has  gone  ;  he  has  proposed 
and  been  accepted,  and  he  will  be  married  directly  to  —  Annie 
Bell  !" 

"  '>  it  possible  I"  The  perplexity  that  had  followed  the  be 
ginning  of  my  announcements,  slowly  spoken  on  purpose  to  mi* 
lead  him  —  fled  before  delighted  astonishment.  "  She  will  hav 
a  model  husband  and  a  comfortable  home.  I  wish  them  joj 
most  heartily  t" 

I  told  him  all  that  I  knew  of  their  plans,  and  enjoyed  the  zetf 
with  which  he  received  each  item- 


M  O  6  S  -S  I  D  E.  271 

•'It  is  gettirg  late,"  I  remaiked,  at  length  ;  "and  i  have 
something  to  say  about  myself." 

"  Say  on.     I  will  listen  all  night,  if  your  story  lasts  so  long." 

It  was  not  so  short  nor  so  merry  as  that  which  I  had  just  re- 
luted  ;  yet  his  interest  was  more  absorbing,  his  emotions  mort 
powerful.  As  I  finished  with  the  account  of  my  open  profession 
of  a  faith  I  had  dreaded  should  prove  unfounded,  until  the  ques- 
tion of  the  dying  saint  had  probed  my  heart,  he  wept  outright 
Then,  I  felt  that  other  prayers  had  joined  Lilly's  on  their  hea- 
venward progress  ;  fathomed  his  love  ;  appreciated  his  long  srf- 
fering,  and  father  and  child  were  reconciled. 

The  hall-clock  tolled  one,  as  I  kissed  him  and  listened  to  hia 
benediction.  I  raised  my  window  for  a  moment,  but  the  ua- 
wholesome  fog  that  rushed  in  caused  me  to  drop  it.  The 
moon  was  yellow  and  sickly  through  the  baneful  veil,  and  the 
earth  had  a  cadaverous  hue  like  that  of  a  shrouded  corpse.  Dr. 
Hamner's  prediction  returned  to  my  mind  ;  but  it  was  not  tha 
sentence  of  doom.  That  the  danger  was  very  near  us  ;  that  no 
arm  of  flesh  could  avert  it,  did  not  terrify  me.  Trustfully,  I 
said  over  a  verse  of  a  hymn  Lilly  had  recited  the  previous  Sab- 
bath : — 

"  God  is  the  refuge  of  His  saints, 

When  storms  of  sharp  distress  invade  ; 
Ere  they  can  offer  their  complaints, 
Behold  Him  present  with  His  aid." 

I  had  looked  upon  Death  bereft  of  his  sting  ;  upon  a  grave  to 
which  victory  was  denied  ;  and  while  I  besought  safety  for  the 
bodies,  as  peace  for  the  souls  of  those  I  loved,  there  was  deli- 
cious repose  in  casting  all  my  care  upon  the  Omnipotent  ;  in 
'caving  them  in  trust  with  the  All-merciful.  Of  Annie  and  her 
dawning  happiness  I  thought ;  of  the  sterling  heart  she  had  won  j 
of  its  morning  of  joy  after  the  night  of  years  ;  of  the  parent 


272  MOSS-SIDE 

weeping  with  rapture  over  the  new  birth  of  his  returning  prod 
gal  ;  of  the  darling  babe,  out  of  "whose  mouth"  was  "  ner 
fected  praise  ;"  and  putting  resolutely  behind  me  f,he  irrevocable 
Past,  I  blessed  God,  in  singleness  of  heart,  that  the  "  lines  ha*3 
fallen  to  me  in  pleasant  places." 


M08S-8IDK  .  £73 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

DE.  HAMXER  was  a  wise  soothsayer.  Our  section  of  the  State 
was  renowned  for  its  healthfulness.  Its  inhabitants  had  hitherto 
enjoyed  an  immunity  from  summer  epidemics  and  autumn  fevers, 
and  jealous  for  the  credit  of  their  neighborhood,  many  combat- 
ed the  theory  that  the  plague  which  fell  upon  them  so  suddenly, 
was  generated  in  their  own  rivulets  and  fertile  low -grounds.  It 
had  been  imported,  they  averred  ;  the  question  was  from  whence, 
and  by  whom  ?  From  these  idle  fallacies  sprang  the  report  of 
contagion,  resulting  in  embargoes  and  quarantine  regulations 
In  spite  of  the  non-intercourse  acts,  the  work  of  destruction  went 
on.  The  physicians  slept  and  ate  in  the  saddle  ;  rode  from  dawn 
to  sunset,  from  sunset  to  dawn,  and  were  the  principal  means  of 
communication  between  the  nearest  neighbors.  Moss-side  wa? 
visited  by  the  scourge — but  lightly.  None  of  the  white  family 
sickened,  and  although  there  were,  at  one  time,  seven  servant? 
down,  some  of  them  dangerously  ill,  all  recovered  except  two 
very  young  children.  This  exemption  might  have  been  ascribed 
to  our  situation  upon  an  airy  ridge,  a  mile  from  any  of  the  larger 
flooded  creeks  ;  and  to  my  father's  foresight  in  enjoining  dietetic 
discipline,  when  less  judicious  masters  scoffed  at  his  over-careful- 
ness ;  but  it  was  more  in  consonance  with  our  feelings  and  the 
ruth  to  return  thanks  to  a  Mightier  Friend  for  the  mercy. 

Mr.  Peyton,  undismayed  by  warnings  and  croakings  of  perso 

nal  infection,  continued  his  visits  to  us,  and,  as  a  matter  of 

course,  to  the  Bells.     Early  one  morning,  while  Lilly  was  saying 

her  lessons  to  me  at  the  breakfast-room  window  Black  Bess  caa 

12* 


274  MOSS-SIDE. 

tered  ap  the  lane.  My  father  was  busy  with  his  shrubs  in  the 
yard,  a  favorite  recreation  with  him.  I  distinguished  Mr.  Pey 
ton's  rejoinder  to  the  inquiry  after  the  health  of  his  household — 
"  About  the  same  ;  no  new  cases  " — and  proceeded  with  our 
books,  peeping,  once  in  a  while,  through  the  jessamine  sprays,  in 
expectancy  of  his  coming  to  seek  me.  They  walked  and  talked, 
up  and  down  the  main  alley,  until  I  forgot  to  watch  them.  M« 
ieat  was  very  comfortable  at  that  hour,  and  I  retained  it  when 
Lilly  gathered  up  the  school  furniture,  and  ran  off  to  her  play. 
My  mind  was  tranquil  ;  my  fingers  were  busy  upon  a  garment 
for  my  "  little  daughter,"  a  term  she  especially  affected.  For 
some  reason,  the  two  pedestrians  diverged  into  the  path  that  ran 
around  the  house,  and  by  the  same  fatality,  stopped  beneath  my 
window.  I  leaned  forward  to  say  a  playful  "  good  morning  "  to 
our  friend,  but  it  remained  unuttered. 

"  Why  depend  upon  living  down  this  calumny,  when  by  notic- 
ing it  publicly,  you  can  kill  it  forthwith  1" 

"Time  heals  all  wounds,  even  those  in  the  reputation,'' 
returned  my  father. 

"It  has  torn  this  one  wider,"  said  Mr.  Peytoo,  excitedly. 
"  The  rumor  has  been  spreading  under  the  crust,  as  it  were,  for 
nobody  knows  how  many  months.  Mrs.  Bell  heard  it  last  win- 
ter, from  divers  quarters,  and  being  wiser  than  her  neighbors, 
kept  it  to  herself.  I  can  recollect  numerous  references  to  it  which 
I  treated  as  beneath  my  notice.  Yesterday,  as  I  have  said,  it 
was  bruited  about  on  the  court-green,  and  discussed  at  the 
tavern  dinner-table.  I  contradicted  it  then,  upon  my  own  re- 
sponsibility, and  now  beg  you  at  least  to  authorize  me  to  ferret 
out  the  origin  of  the  slander.  Mr.  Leigh,  you  have  been  a  father, 
an  invaluable  friend  to  me — an  invaluable  friend  !  I  am  not 
apt  to  quarrel,  as  you  are  well  aware  ;  but  were  this  my  affair, 
I  would  adopt  the  course  I  recommend.  T  would,  indeed,  sir  I 
It  is  the  plain  duty  of  self-defence." 


MOSS-SIDE.  275 

My  father's  profile  was  presented  to  LJC,  The  mouth  wa* 
rigid,  the  brows  contracted. 

"  A/id  what  will  you  advise,"  he  said,  huskily,  "  if  1  admit  th« 
accusation  ?" 

"  Miss  Grace,"  requested  Joe,  politely,  besom  in  hand,  "  I  am 
eudy  to  sweep  out  tuis  department,  but  I  dislike  to  remove  you. 
Perhaps  you  won't  not  object  to  dust.     T  never  raises  a  'strordi< 
nary  quantity." 

Without  answering,  I  escaped  from  the  room,  and  ran  up- 
etairs.  Lilly  was  in  my  chamber,  and  I  took  refuge  in  the  one 
opposite,  locking  and  bolting  the  door,  to  keep  out,  I  could  not 
Bay  v  hat  pursuing  evil.  I  fell  upon  the  bed  and  stopped  my 
ears.  "  Calumny,"  "  wounds  to  reputation,"  were  phrases  of 
dire  .mport.  The  skeleton  had  never  appeared  more  ghastly 
than  now.  Figures  danced  before  my  eyes  ;  bells  rang  and  wa- 
ter roared  in  my  ears,  and  in  the  scarred,  still  tender  temple  was 
a  fast  beating,  like  the  striking  of  an  alarm  clock.  By  and  by, 
I  became  sufficiently  collected  to  think  over  what  I  had  unwit- 
tingly heard,  and  define  my  terrors.  What  was  this  rumor  which 
was  moving  every  tongue  ?  What  had  this  man  of  spotless  life, 
of  blameless  piety,  to  apprehend  from  the  babble  of  iugrates  whose 
love  of  scandal  outweighed  the  respect  they  owed  him  as  their 
host,  their  neighbor,  some,  as  their  benefactor?  On  what  vul- 
nerable side  had  this  slander  attacked  him,  that  he  should  cower 
under  the  whip,  and  feebly  decline  Mr.  Peyton's  generous  offer  of 
vindication  ? 

I  had  raised  myself  to  a  sitting  posture,  and  my  regards  were 
attracted  by  an  end  of  faded  ribbon  hanging  from  a  drawer 
In  the  idle  curiosity  that  sometimes  seizes  us  in  humors  and  a 
seasons  seemingly  the  least  propitious  to  its  production,  I  saun 
tered  to  the  bureau,  and  opened  it.  The  streamer  was  attached 
to  a  defaced  portfolio,  crowded  into  a  scrap-drawer.  I  remem- 
bered Miss  Malvina's  nondescript  design,  the  farewell  gift  ta 


276  MOS8-8IDK. 

Frederic,  the  session  he  spent  with  Dr.  Macon.  I  did  not  smil« 
or  weep,  although  its  associations  might  well  have  betrayed  me 
into  either  emotion.  It  was  as  if  the  skeleton  had  lifted  its  bony 
finger  and  designated  the  spot  where  I  could  find  a  clue  to  the 
author  of  the  mischief,  whcvte  brewing  had  so  affected  us.  I  saw 
not  the  odd  devices  painted  upon  the  tattered  card-board  ;  nor 
were  my  meditations  of  the  enamored  artiste.  Mr.  Townley'i  in- 
solent charges  against  the  head  of  the  family  he  desired  to  enter, 
notwithstanding  the  infamy  he  boasted  he  could  pull  down  upon 
them  at  his  will ;  his  base  threats  and  browbeating  of  a  de- 
fenceless woman — galling  as  they  were,  were  swept  into  nothing- 
ness by  the  avalanche  of  sorrow  that  burst  upon  us  the  same 
day.  Whenever  .they  had  occurred  to  me  since,  they  were  de- 
spised as  the  impotent  ravings  of  a  rejected  man,  burning  to 
avenge  an  injury  to  his  overweening  vanity  ;  for  of  nobler  passion 
I  believed  him  to  be  totally  incapable.  Like  the  venom  of  the 
enraged  toad,  his  might  blister  slightly,  but  could  not  empoison 
the  blood. 

Then  the  conversation  between  Mrs.  Bell  and  Miss  Susan, 
when  they  thought  me  delirious,  was  sifted  for  evidence  bearing 
upon  this  point.  "  Mrs.  Bell  heard  it  last  winter,"  Mr.  Peyton 
had  said,  and  it  was  not  unlikely  that  the  innuendoes  of  the  acid 
spinster  were  the  prelude  to  bolder  assertions.  Another  picture 
was  lifted  into  the  light  by  obedient  Memory  ;  the  dinner,  the 
day  after  our  return  from  the  North ;  my  father's  illness  and 
the  snaky  gleam  of  the  lawyer's  cold,  shallow  eyes  ; — these  were 
scattered  links  of  one  chain  ;  but  I  had  not  the  skill  to  fit  them 
together. 

"If  he  would  confide  in  me  I"  I  said,  burning  drops  welling 
orth  at  the  idea  that  this  had  been  declared  to  be  an  impos- 
sibility. "  Explanation  cannot  restore  the  love  and  troth  this 
mystery  lost  to  me  ;  but  surely,  I  could  comfort  him.  Can  he 
bear  this  augmentation  of  his  burden  alone,  unsupported  ?" 


M  O  S  8  -  8  I  D  E  .  277 

He  did  endure  it  silently — without  complaint ;  with  the  hero- 
ism of  a  Spartan,  the  cheerfulness  of  a  Christian.  The  silve. 
;.atrs  multiplied  more  rapidly  ;  the  lines  of  grave  thought  were 
ploughed  still  deeper  ;  but  the  man,  the  master,  the  parent,  was 
the  same.  Once  I  entered  his  room  unexpectedly,  to  consult 
him  about  administering  some  medicine  to  one  of  the  sick,  and 
discovered  him  wrapped  in  reverie  or  devotion,  his  grey  locks 
ipread  over  the  pages  of  his  Bible,  which  lay  upon  the  table. 
It  was  too  late  to  retreat,  for  he  was  conscious  of  my  interrup- 
tion, and  I  made  known  my  business.  The  requisite  drug  was  in 
the  medicine-closet,  and  I  unthinkingly  glanced  at  the  book  he 
left  open  when  he  arose  to  procure  it.  There  was  a  tear-blot  in 
the  middle  of  one  leaf,  and  without  approaching  nearer,  I  read 
in  the  large  type,  the  verses  thus  marked  : 

"  Wilt  Thou  break  a  leaf  driven  to  and  fro?  and  wilt  Thca 
pursue  the  dry  stubble  ? 

"  For  Thou  writest  bitter  things  against  me,  and  makest  r./a 
to  possess  the  iniquities  of  my  youth." 

And  I,  emulating  this  example  of  patient  affliction,  refrained 
from  saying  or  doing  anything  that  evinced  any  acquaints  a  c« 
with  the  concealed  wound,  or  the  dart  that  now  festered  there 
His  outer  life  was  for  others,  and  such  I  strove  to  make  min« 
also. 

We  were  at  dinner  one  day,  when  Dr.  Hamner  paid  9  profes- 
sional visit  to  the  plantation  wards.  His  tough  coti'jtitution 
withstood  the  draughts  imposed  by  his  duties  at  this  critical 
period,  and  his  joviality  ran  higher  as  the  epidemic  waxed 
Tiore  virulent.  He  came  in,  rubbing  his  hands  and  proclaiming 
hat  he  was  "  hungry  as  a  wolf !" 

"  What  of  the  sickness,  doctor  ?'•'  I  asked. 

His  ravenous  gaze  was  not  to  be  diverted  from  the  chicken  mj 
Father  was  carving  with  all  possible  speed. 

".Add  the  wing,  if  you  please,  sir—a  bit  of  the  breast    aoi 


27?  MOSS-SIDE 

Mnitting  the  dressing — now  gravy  it,  Mr.  Leigh,  and  I  am  you! 
obliged  servant.  The  sickness,  did  you  say,  Miss  Grace  ? 
1  will  trouble  you  for  the  tomatoes,  Joe.  Are  those  cucum 
bers  iu  that  dish  ?  Excuse  me — I  see  my  mistake.  There  is 
no  vegetable  more  refreshing  after  a  hot  ride.  I  have  swal 
lowed  a  peck  of  dust  this  morning  Some  of  the  roads  art 
getting  horribly  dry." 

"  I  regret  your  disappointment  in  the  matter  of  the  cucum- 
bers," said  my  father,  "  but  your  prohibition  was  too  strict  to 
be  slighted.  The  hogs  are  the  only  epicures  in  that  line  on  the 
place." 

"  All  right !  perfectly  proper  !  but " — shrugging  his  shoulders 
m  his  Hibernian  fashion — "  those  rules  do  not  reach  me.  I  snap 
my  fingers  at  such  humbugs.  My  breakfast,  sir,  was  ham,  and 
eggs  as  hard  as  boiled  brickbats  ;  three  cups  of  coffee,  half 
sugar,  six  biscuits,  a  plate  of  buckwheat  cakes  and  another  of 
blackheart  cherries,  topped  by  a  glass  of  iced  buttermilk,  sir. 
'  Do  as  I  say,  not  as  I  do/  is  my  motto  to  you.  Your  health  is 
my  concern  ;  mine  is  nobody's,  thank  goodness  !" 

"  You  are  very  busy  still,  I  suppose,"  I  edged  in. 

"  Busy  !  my  dear  young  lady,  it  is  enough  to  kill  an  elephant ; 
and  as  I  do  not  happen  to  be  an  elephant,  I  survive.  I  am 
direct  from  Peyton's.  I  hear  he  is  going  to  espouse  little  Annie, 
down  in  the  hollow  over  there." 

"  So  it  is  reported,"  said  my  father. 

"  Then  one  more  blamed  fine*  fellow  will  be  spoiled  into  a 
married  man.  Heigho  I  so  the  world  wags — '  marrying  and 
giving  in  marriage,'  as  saith  the  good  Book.  Annie  is  a  nice 
girl,  and  if  there  are  such  marvels  as  tolerable  wives  mauu 
fectured  now-a-days,  she  will  turn  out  to  be  one." 

"  How  are  the  servants  at  Linden  ?*  I  questioned. 

"  Oh  !  so-so  1  Peyton  ruins  them  with  kindness.  I  am  dragged 
from  pillar  to  post  whenever  I  go  there.  Old  Winny  has  • 


M  O  S  8  -  8  1  D  K  .  279 

"  misery  "  in  her  side,  brought  on  by  the  apparition  of  the  spin- 
oing -wheel ;  Josh  faints  when  ordered  to  his  grubbing-hoe  ; 
Dick  gets  dead  drunk  off  "  a  thimble-full  of  drops,"  he  has  beec 
told  are  a  capital  preventive,  and  one  and  all  are  enrolled  upon 
my  list.  The  lazy  vagabonds  !  as  if  the  market  were  not  over 
itccked  with  specimens  of  their  sort !" 

"  Are  there  any  very  ill  amongst  them  ?"  My  father  sup«r 
seded  me  as  inquisitor. 

"  Humph  1  two  or  three  will  have  to  swim  for  their  lives. 
But  not  one  of  them  is  so  badly  off  as  James  Townley." 

"  Mr.  Townley  !"  I  exclaimed,  while  my  father  turned  as  pale 
as  ashes. 

"  I  did  not  know  that  he  was  sick." 

"Another  potatoe,  Joe  1"  said  the  imperturbable  doctor, 
"  and  the  pickles,  if  you  please.  Sick  !  I  don't  call  him  sick — 
he's  past  that.  Nine  chances  out  of  ten  that  he  makes  a  die 
»f  it," 

My  father  pushed  back  his  chair  and  left  the  room.  I  must 
maintain  some  guise  of  self-command. 

"  This  is  shocking  news,  doctor.     When  was  he  taken  ill  V 

"  The  fact  is  that  he  deserves  all  he  is  enduring  for  his  obsti- 
nacy. He  was  ailing  somewhat  last  Friday,  when  I  chanced  to 
meet  him  in  the  road.  The  day  was  scorching,  or  rather  stew- 
Ing,  and  I  ordered  him  to  'right-about-face/  and  go  home — but 
no  !  a  couple  of  executions  must  be  levied,  ten  miles  off.  '  Duty 
before  pleasure,'  he  said.  'To-morrow  I  will  begin  to  nurse 
myself.'  '  You  will  need  medicine  and  nurses  both  befote 
to-morrow  morning,  you  avaricious  nose-grinder  of  the  poor  !'  I 
hallooed  after  him.  He  chuckled  that  sly,  knowing  laugh  of 
his,  and  rode  on.  By  sunrise  next  day,  I  was  sent  for  by  Misi 
Judy  the  only  sensible,  well-behaved  one  in  the  family.  If  she 
were  twenty  years  younger,  six  inches  shorter,  and  a  hundred 
times  handsomer,  I'd  marry  her  to  get  her  out  of  the  set 


280  MOSS-SIDE. 

James  may  stand  it.  I  have  seen  worse  cases  get  well,  bat  ' 
won't  stake  my  reputation  upon  any  guess  that  he  will  live  foui 
days  more." 

I  had  to  let  him  run  on,  for  I  was  too  perturbed  to 
speak.  He  threw  his  saddle-bags  over  his  arm  the,  instant  he 
had  dispatched  his  repast ;  strode  out ;  mounted  his  Rosinante, 
oore  gaunt  and  disconsolate-looking  than  ever,  and  went  forth 
gaily  upon  his  endless  round. 

The  door  of  my  father's  chamber  was  bolted  on  the  inside, 
and  remained  thus,  most  of  the  afternoon  Towards  evening,  he 
emerged  from  his  retirement,  and  called  to  a  servant  to  saddle 
his  horse. 

"  You  are  going  to  ride  then,  sir,"  I  observed,  waylaying  him 
in  the  entry.  My  suspense  would  not  allow  me  to  let  him  depart 
without  seeing  and  speaking  with  him.  I  wished,  yet  dreaded 
to  ascertain  for  myself  the  effect  of  Dr.  Hamner's  intel'igence 
He  looked  jaded,  but  perfectly  calm. 

"Yes,  my  love,"  and  without  any  change  of  manner,  h« 
added,  "  I  am  going  to  see  Mr.  Townley — to  assist  in  cursing 
him,  if  need  be.  If  they  desire  it,  or  it  appears  to  be  expedient. 
I  shall  stay  there  to-night.  There  is  probably  no  other  gentle- 
man in  the  house  and  if  his  condition  be  what  the  doctoi 
describes,  it  is  not  right  that  his  sisters  should  be  left  alore  at 
this  crisis." 

"  Dear  father  !  the  risk  to  yourself !" 

"  Is  trifling,  my  daughter.  With  my  health,  I  can  support 
greater  fatigue  than  that  of  a  single  night's  watching." 

I  sat  up  late,  awaiting  his  return,  in  the  vain  hope  that  life 
services  would  be  unnecessary  ;  that  this  painful  act  of  charity 
would  not  be  exacted  from  him.  It  was  long  after  Lilly's  bed 
time  when  I  reluctantly  locked  up  the  lower  part  of  the  honsfl 
and  went  up  to  her,  but  she  was  awake. 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  come,  Auntie,"  she  chirped  gratifiedly 


M  d   8  8  -  8  I  D  E  .  28* 

"  Have  you  been  lonely  ?*'  I  asked. 

"No  ma'am.  I  am  thoughtful,  I  believe,  and  my  thought! 
will  not  let  me  sleep." 

"  And  what  weighty  matters  engage  them  ?"  I  said,  stroking 
her  cheek,  amused  at  her  unchildish  gravity. 

"  1  am  thinking  about  Mr.  Townley.     Will  he  die,  Auntie  1" 

"  I  hope  not,  dear.     I  know  no  more  than  you  do." 

"  Is  he  a  very  dear  friend  of  grandpapa's,  that  he  has  gone 
to  take  care  of  him  ?" 

"  No,  Lilly,"  I  was  compelled  to  reply.  "To  do  good  to  our 
friends  is  not  the  Scripture  command." 

"  He  is  not  an  enemy,  though,  is  he  ?" 

"  Has  grandpapa  any  enemies,  do  you  imagine  ?"  1  answered. 

She  laughed.  "What  a  foolish  question  for  me  to  ask  1 
What  put  it  into  my  head  that  you  and  he  did  not  like  Mr. 
Townley  ?  and  I  know  there  must  be  something  wrong  in  him  if 
you  do  not." 

"  My  little  Lilly  jumped  at  two  conclusions.  I  hope  you  have 
never  heard  either  of  us  find  any  fault  whatever  with  Mr.  Town- 
ley  ;  and  if  we  had,  every  day,  it  would  not  be  a  certain  sign 
that  he  was  not  quite  the  man  he  should  be." 

"  It  would  be  to  me  1"  rejoined  the  perverse  lady,  whereupon 
I  feigned  to  box  her  ears  and  bade  her  go  to  sleep. 

There  is  no  beam  of  light  more  true  than  the  ray  from  a 
child's  eye  ;  no  test  of  character  more  surely  to  be  depended 
upon  than  the  uuwarped  instinct  of  a  woman-child. 

In  my  prayers  that  night,  I  earnestly  remembered  the  sick  man, 
and  him  whom  he  had  malignantly  aspersed.  For  one,  I  suppli- 
cated health  of  body  and  a  softened  heart;  for  the  other,  the  tried 
disciple  of  the  meek  and  lowly  Redeemer,  I  implored  relief  from 
the  trouble  that  tracked  him  relentlessly,  murderously,  I  feared 
.est  it  should  prove  in  the  end  ;  for  mental  anguish  was  telling 
upon  his  once  vigorous  frame  with  a  weight  more  en  el  than  that 


282  M  O  8  S  -  8  I  D  E  . 

of  years.  He  was  in  his  place  at  breakfast  My  tongue  clovi 
to  the  roof  of  my  mouth,  when  I  would  have  asked  the  state  of 
the  patient,  and  his  worn  sad  look  was  no  index  to  the  truth. 

"  I  left  Mr.  Townley  no  worse,  Grace,"  he  said,  reading  inj 
•olicitous  glance.  "  He  is  very  ill,  however,  and  I  have  pro 
Bised  to  be  with  him  to-night  also." 

"Will  you  be  able?"  I  expostulated.  "  The  weather  is  ex- 
cessively hot.  Does  not  regard  for  your  health  warn  you  against 
this  second  watch  ?" 

"  If  there  were  any  one  to  supply  my  place,  I  might  be  indo- 
lent enough  to  conjure  up  objections,"  he  replied.  "  You  have 
uo  conception  of  the  difficulty  of  obtaining  assistance  in  tending 
the  sick.  Five  of  Mr.  Townley's  negroes  are  prostrated  by  the 
disease  ;  Miss  Malvina  is  a  novice,  unfit  to  be  in  her  brother's 
chamber  ;  Miss  Susan  is  hardly  convalescent  after  her  attack, 
and  Miss  Judy,  strong  and  courageous  as  she  is,  burst  into  tears 
when  she  saw  me.  No  help  can  be  hoped  for  from  the  surround- 
ing plantations.  Most  of  the  well  members  of  the  different  fami- 
lies have  to  perform  hospital  duty  for  the  rest,  and  those  whc 
could  be  spared,  are  so  imbued  with  this  notion  of  infection  that 
neither  humanity  nor  friendship  can  prevail  upon  them  tobra^a 
the  chances  of  taking  the  malady." 

"  Did  Mr.  Townley  recognize  you  ?"  I  inquired. 

"  Yes.  He  is  conscious,  although  his  weakness  is  pitiable 
Several  times  I  thought  him  dying,  so  low  was  his  pulse.  He 
says  little,  and  only  to  signify  his  wants.  Heaver  grant  he  ma, 
outlive  this  spell  1" 

There  was  no  hypocrisy  in  this  ejaculation.  From  the  bottom 
of  his  heart  it  arose,  arid  the  recording  angel  wrote  it  down  with 
a  smile  I  read  him  to  sleep  that  forenoon,  and  during  the 
dreamless  slumber  of  hours,  I  did  not  quit  him.  His  placid  fea- 
tures were  a  study  and  a  lesson  to  my  undisciplined  spirit. 
Whatever  was  the  dark  sorrow  overhanging  him  with  mysteri 


M  O  S  8  -  8  I  D  E  283 

4us  gloom,  it  wrought  in  him  no  revenge  towards  man,  no  rebel- 
lion against  God.  He  drank  the  wormwood  humbly,  without  re- 
pining. Remorseful  thoughts  of  my  estranged  affection,  my  hard 
'udgment  and  repellant  bearing,  mingled  repentance  with  the 
veneration  I  felt  for  him  now.  In  trusting  my  Heavenly  Father 
I  had  parted  with  doubts  of  my  earthly  protector.  I  manifested 
no  desire  to  learn  what  motive  besides  Christian  benevolence 
carried  him  day  by  day  to  Mr.  Townley's  ;  nor  did  he  intimate 
that  any  other  swayed  him,  except  by  a  brief  sentence,  uttered 
in  a  transport  of  gratitude,  when  his  charge  was  affirmed  to  be 
out  of  danger. 

"  Grace  !  God  forgive  me  !  but  there  was  one  second  in 
which  I  wished  for  his  death  instead  !" 

"  We  are  your  debtors  forever  I"  sobbed  Miss  Judy,  who  came 
over  to  Moss-side  with  the  tidings,  the  same  day,  not  knowing 
that  Dr.  Hamner  had  already  imparted  them.  "  The  good  Sa- 
maritan was  not  so  kind  as  you  have  been  to  us,  Mr.  Leigh. 
Said  James,  just  before  I  started  from  home — '  Tell  Mr.  Leigh  I 
have  no  words  to  thank  him  with,  but  if  I  do  get  over  this,  my 
deeds  shall  speak  for  me.'  And  I  say  that  none  of  us  can  ever 
do  anything  towards  repaying  you — yet  it  will  be  made  up  to 
you — I  know  it  will  1" 


2S4  M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  K 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

PITS  years  rolled  tranquilly  away,  signalized  by  no  melunchcty 
changes  in  our  home  and  neighborhood1.  My  aunt's  health  had 
amended  perceptibly  ;  my  father  was  not,  in  appearance,  one  day 
older  than  at  the  close  of  the  summer  of  the  pestilence  ;  Lilly 
had  attained  a  stature  below  the  medium  height  of  womanhood, 
indeed,  but  one  which  was  likely  to  remain  her  maximum,  and 
her  curls  were  darkened  to  the  rarest  golden  chestnut.  Hei 
father  had  married  again,  three  years  after  the  death  of  his  first 
wife  ;  an  event  that  excited  much  commotion  and  trying  sus- 
pense at  Moss-side  ;  a  commotion  quelled  and  a  suspense  ended 
by  the  bridal  visit.  My  sister-in-law  was  in  nothing  undeserving 
of  the  succession  to  Lilly's  mother.  Her  self-sacrificing  spirit, 
displayed  at  the  outset  of  her  married  life  in  resolving  to  spare 
our  treasure  still  to  our  craving  hearts  ;  her  generosity  in  waiv- 
ing her  right  to  the  daughter  she  received  into  full  affection, 
from  the  instant  of  their  meeting,  laid  us  under  a  weight  of 
grateful  obligation,  and  called  down  upon  her  head  a  shower  of 
loving  blessings.  Lilly  had  been  to  see  them  since  the  birth  of 
a  baby-brother,  named  for  our  father,  "  Archie,"  and  in  whose 
face  the  fond  parent  fancied  he  could  trace  a  likeness  to  our  lost 
Frederic. 

Another  nephew,  and  a  niece,  not  the  less  beloved  because 
they  were  such  in  heart  alone,  and  not  in  blood,  were  claimants 
upon  ray  thoughts  and  time.  The  whilom  solitary  halls  of  Lin- 
den reverberated  to  the  shouts  of  infantile  voices  ;  the  music  of 
childish  prattle  made  glad  the  heart  of  its  master  For  him 


M  O  fc  5  -  8  I  I)  E  285 

happiness  seemed  to  have  reversed  the  wheels  of  Time  ;  with  the 
gift  of  these  young  lives  to  his  care,  had  also  been  bestowed  the 
renewal  of  his  youth. 

The  Townley  establishment  had  undergone  material  alterations. 
Miss  Malvina  had  transferred  her  susceptible  heart  and  substan- 
tial corporeal  frame  to  the  keeping  of  an  elderly  farmer,  resident 
In  another  county,  who  had  already  buried  three  wives.  To  the 
languishing  step-mother,  nine  children  looked  for  parental  in- 
struction and  control,  and  were  doomed,  I  fear,  to  disappoint- 
ment and  anarchy,  except  at  the  seasons  of  Miss  Judy's  visita- 
tions, when  her  sterling  sense  and  indefatigable  industry  righted 
some  of  the  disorders  in  the  turbulent  household.  The  brother, 
too,  had  submitted  his  supple  neck  to  the  noose  hymeneal  ;  had 
tested  the  capacity  of  his  heart  to  support  a  weight  of  bliss,  by 
taking  to  himself  a  buxom  lass,  weighing  twelve  stone,  and 
"  worth,"  in  match-maker's  phrase — "  a  cool  thirty  thousand  in 
her  own  right  ;"  which  right,  of  course,  became  the  enraptured 
bridegroom's.  How  far  he  had  redeemed  his  pledge  of  service 
made  to  my  father  in  the  transient  thankfulness  for  his  recovery, 
I  could  not  determine.  I  deemed  it  most  likely  that  if  he  were 
the  author  of  the  reports  which  had  raised  Mr.  Peyton's  friendly 
ire,  he  had,  without  bestirring  himself  to  contradict  them,  compro- 
mised with  conscience  upon  mature  reflection,  when  the  danger 
from  illness  was  fairly  over,  and  preserving  a  circumspect  silence, 
trusted  to  the  natural  demise  of  an  unjust  report  to  reinstate  his 
slandered  neighbor  in  the  favor  of  the  community.  That  this 
did  occur  was  owing  to  the  probity  of  the  victim  and  the  ers- 
sive  operation  of  Time  ;  not  to  the  repentance  of  the  calumnia- 
tor. I  could  judge  of  the  estimation  in  which  my  father  waa 
held,  only  from  outward  tokens  of  respect  showed  by  his  asso- 
ciates, aud  these  were  manifold  at  the  period  to  which  this  neces- 
sary retrospect  brings  me. 

Two  winters  had  been  blessed  by  the  society  of  our  widoweff 


286  MOSS-SIDE. 

May  ;  still  the  unclouded  pearl,  brighter,  purer  for  the  sombr« 
setting,  At  her  last  visit,  and  ever  since  by  her  letters,  she  had 
extolled  the  merits  of  a  celebrated  physician  in  her  native  city, 
who  had  proved  himself  remarkably  successful  in  the  treatment 
of  such  diseases  as  my  aunt's,  and  tried  to  inspire  us  with  faith 
sufficient  to  make  trial  of  his  skill.  The  idea  gained  plausibility 
o  my  father's  mind  at  every  presentation  ;  nor  could  I  discredit 
he  accounts  of  wonderful  cures  for  whose  authenticity  she 
Touched.  Edmund  was  consulted,  and  he  strenuously  advo- 
cated May's  views.  Dr.  Hamner  shrugged  his  shoulders  until 
they  saluted  his  ears,  and  advised  us  to  "  pack  off  by  the  next 
stage." 

"  I  have  heard  of  more  miraculous  recoveries  in  the  Mother 
Country,"  he  said,  assuming  the  brogue  he  never  practised  unless 
when  he  designed  to  ridicule.  "  Faith  1  they  raise  a  man  from 
the  dead  there  by  the  howly  help  of  a  corner  of  St.  Peter's  pocket 
handkerchief  ;  though  its  meself  that  doesn't  believe  that  he  ever 
had  one.  A  paring  of  St.  Matthew's  thumb-nail,  or  a  button 
from  the  flap  of  St.  Luke's  overcoat  might  answer  your  pur- 
pose. Although  an  apostate  from  Mother  Church,  I  may  have 
influence  enough  at  head-quarters  to  procure  you  whichever  you 
prefer." 

"  But  seriously,  doctor,"  said  my  father,  "  do  yoa  discourage 
this  plan  as  an  absurd  venture  ?  Is  there,  in  your  opinion,  the 
slightest  hope  that  it  will  be  productive  of  good  to  my  sister  ? 
As  a  friend  and  a  physician  whom  I  trust,  I  beg  you  will  be  can- 
c'id  with  me." 

"  I  will,  sir  !  My  counsel  is,  try  this  fellow,  if  yon  are  as- 
sured that  he  is  not  an  unlearned  or  knavish  charlatan  in  hia 
profession,  and  by  all  means,  take  the  journey.  You  wish  to 
see  youi  daughter-in-law,  and  should  Miss  Agnes  derive  no  bene 
fit  from  the  practice  of  Dr.  What-you-may-call-him,  your  time  and 
trouble  will  not  be  thrown  away,  or  hers  either,  for  change  of 


MOSS-SIDE.  287 

air  and  scene  will  undoubtedly  improve  her  general  health.  Thus 
much  as  a  friend.  As  a  physician,  I  will  frankly  avow  that  I 
have  hitherto  considered  your  sister's  complaint  almost  incurable 
by  medicine.  Nature  occasionally  takes  the  patient  in  hand,  ant1 
puts  to  shame  our  drugs  and  panaceas,  but  the  dame  is  chary  of 
these  favors,  through  an  amiable  fear,  perhaps,  that  men  will  get 
ntirely  out  of  conceit  with  an  art  that,  once  in  a  thousand  times, 
helps  her  in  a  job.  Yet  I  am  more  cautious  than  I  was  once  ; 
am  acquiring  humility  with  crowsfeet  and  grey  hairs.  My 
lather  never  saw  a  steamboat  or  a  railroad  car — I  have  travelled 
in  both.  My  grandfather  died  of  the  small-pox — now,  thanks  to 
Jenner  !  I  have  enough  of  the  ounce  of  precaution  in  my  pocket- 
book  to  render  an  hundred  men  invulnerable  to  the  loathsome 
destroyer.  Wisdom  won't  die  with  me.  Set  that  down  as  a 
spick-and-span  idea,  and  hope,  as  I  do,  that  this  all-curing 
brother  M.D.  may  be  what  Mrs.  Leigh  describes  him." 

"  Thank  you  !"  said  my  father,  warmly.  "  Will  it  be  tres- 
passing too  much  upon  your  time  and  kindness  if  I  ask  you  to 
join  your  persuasions  to  mine  to  reconcile  my  sister  to  this  move- 
ment ?  She  is  desponding,  and  you,  in  whom  she  has  unbounded 
confidence,  are  best  qualified  to  deal  with  her." 

My  aunt  had  been  uniformly  disinclined  to  a  proposition  in 
which  she  certainly  was  most  nearly  interested.  The  doctor, 
who  was  faithful  to  the  trust  reposed  in  him,  found  it  difficult 
to  rebut  her  reasonings,  and  reply  to  her  interrogatories,  without 
committing  himself  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  question. 

"  I  had  rather  James  Townley  should  crjiss-examine  me  upon 
the  witness-stand,  than  pass  through  another  such  ordeal,"  he 
ernarked  confidentially  to  me,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  debate. 
'  But  we've  carried  our  point,  and  next  month — June — you  are 
tc  begin  your  pilgrimage  to  this  King-cure-all." 

For  the  evening  reading,  ray  aunt  selected  the  history  of  the 
paralytic,  whom  his  bearers  lowered  from  the  house-top  into  th* 


288  MOSS-SIDE. 

ncurt  where  Jesus  was.  As  I  read,  she  sat,  as  was  her  custom, 
rubbing  the  deadened  member,  slowly  and  constantly. 

"  You  see  1"  she  said,  when  I  was  through,  "  that  Power  alone, 
wUch  could  forgive  sins,  could  heal  the  palsied  man." 

"  And  why  may  He  not  be  moved  in  your  behalf?"  I  asked. 

"  The  day  of  miracles  is  over,"  replied  she.  "  Yet  I  am  willing 
bo  go — useless  as  I  feel  it  to  be — for  your  sakes." 

My  attendance  was  indispensable,  and  I  urged  no  objection. 
The  decision  was  made,  and  I  would  not,  if  I  could,  have  revoked 
it,  however  forlorn  might  be  the  hope  of  a  favorable  result  of 
the  experiment.  I  had  my  hands  full  of  work,  morning,  noon, 
and  night  ;  but  my  heart  did  not  wait  for  leisure  to  complain. 
How  I  fought  the  Past  ;  wrestled  and  prayed  in  private,  and  in 
the  haunted  midnight,  no  one  suspected  ;  and  I  blessed  the  Giver 
of  strength  that  this  was  so  ;  that  my  smile  deceived  even  the 
father  whose  watchful  gaze  followed  me  everywhere  ;  who,  with 
his  knowledge  of  my  former  life,  must  be  prepared  for  some  sign 
of  awakened  memories  ;  of  the  conflict  which  was,  hi  reality,  go- 
ing on. 

Trunks  were  packed  ;  arrangements  made  to  leave  the  h^uso 
in  care  of  the  servants,  for  Lilly  was  to  stay  at  Linden  while  we 
veere  gone  ;  and,  as  there  yet  remained  an  idle  afternoon  of  the  last 
«ay  at  home,  I  proposed  a  farewell  call  to  the  Peytons,  instead 
of  awaiting  the  one  they  would  be  sure  to  make  to  us.  My  father 
Lad  letters  to  write,  but  would,  if  these  were  finished  in  season, 
come  for  Lilly  and  myself.  It  was  not  very  warm,  and  we  pre- 
ferred walking  the  short  mile  of  plantation-road,  lying,  for  the 
most  part,  through  spicy  pine  woods,  or  the  less  dense  shade  of 
oaks. 

"How  much  Linden  is  improved  since  Mr.  Peyton's  mar' 
nage  1"  observed  Lilly. 

We  were  ascending  the  hill  upon  which  it  stood,  and  as  I 
recalled  the  deserted  air  that  used  to  hang  about  its  dingy  walli 


MOBS-SIDE.  289 

*nd  wide,  empty  porches,  unpaiuted  during  the  widowerhood  of 
its  owner,  the  scene  before  me  was  one  of  striking  beanty. 
Painters  and  carpenters  had  been  at  work  throughout  the  build- 
ing, not  re-modelling,  but  repairing  ;  — J  heavy  as  was  the  style 
of  the  old  structure,  it  was  no  more  j'.ootiy  and  tasteless.  The 
lawn,  close-shaven,  and  green  as  emerald,  was  enclosed  by  a 
white  paling,  with  great  gates  opening  upon  the  graceful  sweep 
of  carriage-way.  In  the  centre  of  the  circle  thus  formed  was  a 
magnificent  elm.  The  rest  of  the  shade-trees  were  of  the  species 
which  had  given  name  to  the  place.  This  was  the  home  of 
Annie  Bell — "  the  seamstress,"  as  Miss  Malvina  designated  her. 
An  unavoidable  comparison  of  the  present  situations  of  the  two 
came  up  in  my  mind. 

"  There  is  a  buggy — Mr.  Townley's,  I  believe,"  Lilly's  quick 
eyesight  next  discovered  ;  "  and  Mr.  Peyton  is  playing  with  the 
children  on  the  lawn." 

Baby  Mary,  the  youngest,  called,  by  Annie's  particular  request, 
after  Mr.  Peyton's  former  partner — was  mounted  upon  Sultan's 
back,  sustained  in  her  seat  by  her  father,  while  upon  the  other 
side  trotted  Master  Robert,  an  urchin  of  four  summers  ;  a  bold 
miniature  of  his  mother,  and  on  this  score,  somewhat  spoiled  by 
Mr.  Peyton  and  Mrs.  Bell.  He  was  a  generous,  warm-hearted 
hoy,  however,  and  showed  unfeigned  delight  at  his  sister's  rise  in 
the  world.  She  had  another,  and  a  higher,  shortly,  for  Mr. 
Peyton,  catching  a  glimpse  of  us,  swung  her  up  to  his  shoulder, 
and,  pursued  by  Robert  and  Sultan,  ran  down  to  the  gate  to 
meet  us.  Thus  escorted  we  proceeded  to  the  house,  and  were 
usheied  into  the  great  pa  ,  where  Mrs.  Bell  and  Annie  enter 
Uined  Mr  and  Mrs.  Tov  ey.  Mrs.  Peyton  was  more  matronly 
Ui  dress  and  staid  in  carriage  than  hi  her  girlhood,  but  the  happy 
su.ile,  the  natural  sweetness  of  speech  and  manner  were  all  hers 
yei .  She  felt  the  alteration  in  mere  externals  less  than  did  her 
acquaintances  Mr.  Townley,  for  example,  universally  affabk 
13 


290  MOSS-SIDE. 

though  he  was,  understood,  and  expressed  in  his  deportment, 
the  difference  between  the  daughter  of  the  brown  cottage  under 
the  hill,  and  the  mistress  of  one  of  the  best  estates  in  the  district; 
between  the  sewing-girl  who  fitted  his  sister's  dresses  and 
stitched  hia  wristbands  and  collars,  and  the  wife  of  RoLeit 
Peyton,  Esq.,  whose  popularity  would  ensure  his  election  tc  any 
office  in  the  gift  of  his  fellow-countymen — Mr.  Towuley's  acme 
of  public  favoritism. 

The  small  lawyer  was  very  diminutive,  as  he  appeared  from 
the  penumbra  cast  far  across  the  floor  by  his  wife,  and  paid 
his  respects.  He  still  wore  shining  boots  and  unimpeachable 
broad-cloth  ;  linen,  speckless  and  wriukleless,  and  parted  his 
hair  down  the  middle  ;  was  inquisitive  as  a  woman,  and  sly 
as  a  fox,  and  still  perpetrated  puns  upon  every  possible,  and 
what  would  have  seemed  to  plain,  sensible  people,  impossible 
opportunity.  He  handled  the  reins  of  conversation  with  hia 
accustomed  airy  sprightliness  ;  while  his  wife,  laced  up  at  the 
peril  of  stays  and  blood-vessels,  in  a  broad-plaided  silk  with 
four  flounces,  fanned  herself  in  the  most  capacious  chair  in  the 
room,  and  mourned  over  the  hot  day.  This  sylphid  bore  the 
name  of  Eva  I  A  host  of  lovely  images  ;  the  .beautiful  creations 
of  poetry  and  romance  arise  to  deprecate  the  profanation,  but 
truth  is  stern  and  fact  is  immutable.  I  repeat  it — she  was 
christened  by,  and  answered  to,  the  title  of  Eva.  Her  husband 
had  confided  the  circumstance  of  his  engagement  to  Mr.  Peyton 
by  means  of  a  riddle  in  this  shape,  "  I  have  now  a  prospect  of 
obtaining  Evarvy  blessing  I  can  desire," — which  happy  device, 
f  not  immediately  intelligible,  was,  at  any  rate,  characteristic. 

Our  projected  journey  was  the  chief  theme  of  chat.  The 
Bopard's  heart  was  not  transformed.  More  than  one  scratch 
reminded  me  of  what  I  had  learned  long  ago — that  although 
policy  might  dictate  the  concealment  of  his  claws,  they  were 
sharpened  for  use.  One  might  have  supposed  that  Lis  grudge 


MOSS-BIDE.  291 

against  me  would  be  overlooked — more  than  forgiven,  inasmuch 
as  its  cause  had  indirectly  enabled  Mm  to  pluck  this  richer  and 
larger  prize  from  the  scales  of  Fortune.  But  in  the  eye  of  Law 
and  Equity,  a  result  which  I  had  no  intent  to  produce  was  not 
an  atonement  for  actual  and  personal  offence.  With  the  per- 
tinacity of  a  little  soul,  he  let  pass  no  chance  of  such  petty 
etaliation  as  I  only  would  perceive  and  fee.'. 

"  It  has  been  a  number  of  years  since  you  visited  New  Yo/k, 
Miss  Grace,"  he  said,  smoothly. 

"  Yes,  sir."  I  turned  to  reply  to  something  said  by  Mrs. 
Bell. 

"  Let  me  see,"  he  calculated,  "  I  was  there  the  same  summer 
— six — can  it  be  seven  years  ago  ?  I  was  a  grown  man  atd  a 
beau  of  Miss  Grace's  even  then,  Eva  ;  but  gallantry  and  truth 
compel  me  to  say  that  she  was  very  youthful — a  mere  school 
girl,  in  fact  ;  too  young  to  vex  her  brain  about  broken  heurta 
and  vows  as  brittle.  Miss  Lilly,  we  are  listening  every  day  for 
tales  of  your  conquests.  I  trust  you  will  display  more  leuie&cy 
to  your  subjugated  admirers  than  your  aunt  has  done." 

"  I  shall  aim  to  copy  her  in  that,  as  in  other  respects,"  L,aid 
Lilly.  "  She  has  never  led  me  astray  as  yet,  and  I  am  willing 
to  tread  in  her  footsteps  to  the  end  of  the  path." 

"  You  could  not  select  a  safer  or  more  flowery  road,"  assented 
Mr.  Townley.  "The  sorrows  that  befall  you  there  will  be  such 
as  Providence  appoints  ;  none  of  them  the  fruits  of  misdirected 
affections  o*  rash  contracts.  You  will  never  lose  a  friend  01 
•  reate  an  enemy  by  your  own  act." 

\nnie  in  her  simplicity,  smiled  at  me  lovingly,  yet  in  amuse- 
neiu  at  what  she  regarded  as  high-flown  compliment.  Lilly 
gathered  a  different  meaning  from  my  countenance,  and  bowing 
slightly  in  acknowledgment  of  Mr.  Townley's  gratuitous  remarks, 
she  coaxed  the  infant  from  Mr.  Peyton,  and  began  tossing  il 
and  discoursing  in  baby-patois,  more  barbarous  than  Greek  or 


292  M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  K  . 

Hebrew  to  our  ears,  but  perfectly  intelligible  to  herself  and 
Mary,  who  crowed  and  jumped  in  prodigious  enjoyment. 

"  It  is  not  your  purpose  to  travel  about  much,  I  understand  * 
continued  my  persecutor. 

"  No,  sir.     Our  trip  is  one  of  business,  not  pleasure." 

"  Business,  which  it  is  my  earnest  wish  may  be  happilj 
accomplished/'  he  responded.  "  You  have  acquaintances  in  the 
city,  however,  who  will  not  leave  you  in  seclusion.  They  will 
enliven  your  dutiful  retirement  with  their  society.  Besides  your 
estimable  sister-in-law  (to  whom  please  present  my  remem- 
brances and  kindest  regards),  you  have  another  intimate  friend 
there  —  have  you  not  ?  I  refer  to  the  lady  at  whose  marriage 
you  assisted  in  18  —  ." 

"  I  shall  see  her,  doubtless,"  I  answered  as  negligently  as  I 
could  ;  "  but  our  sojourn  will  be  short,  and  my  time  fully  occu- 
pied with  my  aunt." 

"  Is  the  agreeable  young  gentleman  who  honored  one  of  our 
Christmas  gatherings  with  his  company  —  the  brother  of  the  verv 
lady  in  question,  I  believe  —  now  a  resident  of  New  York  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know,  sir,"  I  said,  truly. 

"  Nor  whether  he  is  still  unmarried,  I  presume  ?"  growing 
more  impertinent  under  the  mask  of  playful  raillery. 

Instead  of  avoiding  his  mocking  smile,  I  looked  him  steadily 
in  the  face.  "  I  know  nothing  about  his  present  locality  or 
condition." 

"  Really,  Mr.  Townley,"  interrupted  his  wife  ;  "  you  shall  not 
tease  Miss  Grace  any  more.  She  takes  it  so  beautifully  that  I 
don't  see  where  you  find  the  fun  in  pestering  her  with  ques- 
tions. Where  is  the  sense  of  worrying  yourself  about  her 
?  You  are,  for  all  the  world,  just  like  the  dog  in  the 


The   most   skillfully-aimed  shaft  of  repartee  could  not  have 
entered  where  did  this  blunt,  random  shaft.     Mr.  Townley  wa« 


MOSS-SIDE.  29S 

disconcerted  ;  so  rare  an  occurrence  was  it,  and  the  general 
effect  upon  the  listeners  so  ludicrous,  that  a  laugh  was 
raised  at  his  expense  His  wife  chimed  in  with  the  round, 
unctuous  "  ha  I  ha  I"  one  always  expects  from  obese  good- 
nature, and  fanned  herself  more  vigorously  to  evaporate  the  per- 
spiration the  exercise  had  driven  out  upon  her  forehead.  Her 
liege-lord  tarried  a  decent  time,  that  his  withdrawal  might  not 
have  the  appearance  of  a  retreat,  and  signed  t^  her  to  prepare 
for  the  leave-taking. 

He  gave  me  as  a  Parthian  arrow,  a  revised  edition  of  an 
ancient  pun. 

"  I  have  a  presentiment  that  this  contemplated  visit  is  to 
deprive  our  neighborhood  of  one  of  its  most  valuable  ornaments. 
You  have  lost  none  of  your  Wynne-iug  qualities  since  your 
earlier  expedition  to  this  same  hunting-ground,  and  some  of  us 
are  tolerably  posted  up  as  to  your  exploits  in  those  days.  May 
similar  success  crown  your  efforts  in  this  case — or  chase,  I  might 
better  say  perhaps." 

This  clause  was  for  my  private  ear. 

"Don't  believe  a  syllable  of  the  soft  talk  he  is  dosing  you 
with  there,  Miss  Grace  !"  called  out  Mrs.  Townley.  "  I  know 
him  1  and  I  tell  you  he  is  the  grandest  hypocrite  alive." 

"  'There's  many  a  true  word  spoken  in  jest,' "  said  Mr.  Pey- 
ton, rejoining  us,  after  having  helped  the  lady  into  the  car- 
riage. "  That's  a  man  in  whom  I  have  no  confidence — none 
whatever  1" 

"  Do  not  say  that,  Mr.  Peyton,"  returned  Annie.  "  He  bbi 
his  faults,  but  he  must  have  his  virtues  too." 

"  You  will  go  far  and  search  keenly  before  you  discover 
many,"  was  her  husband's  reply.  "  You  don't  know  him  as  I 
do,  Annie — you  don't  know  him  as  I  do  !  But  let  him  f  aaa. 
So,  Grace,  you  set  out  to-morrow  ?  and  when  am  I  to  come  few 
Lilly?" 


294  M OSS-SID K. 

"  Early  iii  the  morning,  if  yon  please,  sir.  I  hope  you  wiD 
not  find  her  a  troublesome  charge." 

"  Troublesome  !"  exclaimed  he  and  Annie  in  concert. 

"  You  deserve  that  we  should  keep  her  from  you  always,  in 
pnnishmeut  for  that  slur,"  added  the  latter.  "  We  will  do  our 
best  to  save  you  from  home-sickness,  Lilly  ;  and  with  the  aid  of 
the  children,  I  think  we  may  succeed  in  a  measure.  It  is  to  b« 
lamented  that  Linden  offers  no  facilities  for  swelling  the  list  of 
conquests  of  which  Mr.  Towuley  speaks." 

"  Lilly's  conquests !"  I  said  to  myself,  on  our  return  walk.  "  Is 
this  already  the  cry  ?  and  she  nothing  but  a  babe  and  our  toy  1 
How  preposterous  I" 

I  looked  then,  with  stranger-eyes,  at  the  form  tripping  by  my 
side.  Girlish  it  was,  but  not  childish  ;  slender,  without  fragi- 
lity ;  well-strung  and  free  of  motion  as  was  that  of  her  grey- 
hound. Her  bonnet  swung  upon  her  arm,  the  slight  moisture 
induced  by  walking  imparted  additional  gloss  and  a  closer  curl 
to  her  hair  ;  the  carmine  and  snow  were,  at  once,  blent  and  con- 
trasted in  her  complexion  ;  to  me,  she  was  exceedingly  beautiful. 

"  Auntie,"  she  ended  the  silence,  ignorant  of  my  gaze.  "  May 
I  ask  a  very  silly  question  ?" 

"  As  many  as  you  choose,  darling." 

"  I  must  preface  it  by  a  truthful  remark,  which  you  may  class 
with  Mr.  Townley's  flatteries,"  she  continued.  "  Auntie,  dear, 
you  are  intelligent,  pretty  and  good,  and  these  things  are  as 
apparent  to  others,  as  to  me.  Martha  and  Aunt  Amy  have  a 
never  empty  budget  of  stories  of  your  admirers  and  the  repulses 
they  received.  Mr.  Townley  hinted  as  much  this  afternoon. 
There  must  be  some  foundation  for  these  traditions.  Were  you 
«o  very  cruel  in  your  bellehood  ?  It  is  unlike  you,  it  seems  to 
me." 

"  I  was  neither  a  belle,  nor  cruel,  my  love  The  servant* 
exaggerated  to  maintain  the  honor  of  the  family,  whose  cscufr 


M  O  8  8  -  8  1  D  E  295 

eheon  they  consider  would  be  stained  by  the  admitted  fac;t  thai 
one  of  the  ladies  of  the  house  lived  and  died  an  old  maid 
from  necessity." 

Lilly  laughed.  "You  cannot  deceive  me  with  any  such  pro 
raricatiou  as  that.  My  belief  in  the  nursery  and  kitchen  gossip 
IB  firm.  I  thought,"  more  gravely — "  I  have  often  wondered 
whether  a  sense  of  duty  or  your  own  pleasure  kept  you  single, 
whether  you  would  not  have  been  happier  married  to  one  yon 
loved,  than  even  in  your  sweet  home  with  us.  Then  again,  it 
appeared  probable  that  your  heart  was  so  well  satisfied  with  the 
love  of  those  nearest  to  you  now,  that  you  never  knew  the  need 
of  other  affection." 

If  the  chimera  of  her  perpetual  babyhood  had  not  been  aban- 
doned ten  minutes  before,  this  language  would  have  dissipated 
it.  Untrained  in  the  conventionalism  which  instructs  young 
ladies  to  deny  that  they  have  ever  had  an  idea  upon  a  sub- 
ject that  often  excludes  every  other  from  meditation,  locked-up 
diaries  and  dreams — she  avowed  to  me  that  she  had  had  specu- 
lations of  her  own  ;  that  she  was  cognizant  of  the  existence 
of  one  sentiment  sufficient  in  itself  to  supply  the  heart  with 
food,  and  that  there  must  be  a  reason  for  every  exception  to  its 
universal  dominion. 

I  could  not  jest.  This  budding  of  the  woman's  nature  was 
too  holy,  too  solemn  a  revelation  to  be  sported  with.  I  had  lost 
my  play-thing,  but  in  its  stead  was  a  treasure  to  be  guarded 
with  more  jealous  vigilance.  With  the  knowledge  of  Love, 
how  soon  would  come  its  experience — how  soon  its  woe  ?  I 
thought  of  my  Christmas  vow,  when  her  laughter  had  t 
level  tone  to  me. 

"  0,  Father  1"  I  prayed  now,  "  help  me  still  to  ward  off  sor- 
*ow,  everything  that  can  blight  this  spirit  1" 

"  Lilly,"  I  said  bravely — not  without  cheerfulness — "  time  was 
I  did  feel  the  want  of  another  love  ;  when  it  was  mine,  tc 


296  M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  E  . 

have  and  to  hold,  I  imagined,  forever.  God  saw  fit  to  deprive  mt 
of  it.  I  live  without  it  ;  live  contentedly,  happily,  in  the  home, 
with  the  dear  ones  He  has  spared.  I  desire  nothing  to  replace 
what  once  absorbed  my  being  ;  I  shall  die  as  I  live,  unmarried. 
If  Love  be  a  spirit-need,  darling,  believe  me,  wedlock  without  it 
is  the  spirit's  bane.  Do  not  torture  your  imagination  to  con- 
ceive me  as  spinning  out  a  life  of  wretched  loneliness,  for  this 
would  be  untrue.  There  is  one  Fountain  that  quenches  every 
thirst,  and  with  this,  I  have  so  many  other  blessings  that  I  must 
devote  the  largest  place  in  my  prayers  to  thanksgiving." 

The  rosy  mouth  was  in  a  quiver,  and  the  brown  eyelashes 
lowered. 

"  But,  Auntie,  you  must  have  suffered  in  the  beginning — be 
fore  you  saw  the  wisdom  of  the  disappointment." 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  who  lifted  me  into  the  light  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  ma'am — a  very  dear  friend  he  must  be  to  you  now." 

"  She  is  !  A  dearer  earth  cannot  supply — for  she  is  my  Lilly 
— my  little  daughter — my  reconciling  angel — my  everything 
lovely  and  beloved  1" 

Her  eyes  ran  over  ;  but  her  countenance  was  illumined  by  a 
smile  more  joyous  than  the  summer  daylight. 

We  had  reached  a  curve  in  the  road,  and  hearing,  in  advance 
»f  us,  the  rapid  strokes  of  hoofs,  stepped  to  one  side,  barely  in 
,ime  to  clear  the  way  for  the  rider  of  a  fleet,  mettled  animal, 
dusty  and  wet  with  fast  or  long  travel,  yet  galloping  as  upon  a 
morning  hunt.  The  cavalier  uttered  an  exclamation  and  reined 
up,  seeing  us  so  near  him.  He  was  handsome  and  young,  the 
incipient  darkening  of  the  upper  lip  proclaiming  the  promise, 
rather  than  the  presence  of  manhood.  There  was  no  lack  of 
grace  in  his  apologetic  salutation — "  or  assurance  either  I"  I  de* 
cided,  as  a  half-smile  llitted  over  his  face,  and  a  scrutinizing 
glance  succeeded  his  start  of  surprise.  Doffing  his  hat,  and  bow- 
ing again,  until  his  black  hair  almost  mingled  with  his  horsc'i 
mane,  lie  swept  on  at  the  same  gait. 


MOSS-SIDE  297 

"  Who  can  he  be  ?"  wondered  Billy.  "  They  said  nothing  at 
Linden  about  expecting  a  guest,  and  this  road  leads  nowhere 
else." 

My  father  met  us  a  few  rods  further  on.  The  horseman  had 
passed  him,  and  had  bowed,  but  he  had  no  recollection  of  his 
person,  only  that  he  was  a  bold  rider  and  seemed  to  be  a  travel- 
er. Our  curiosity  was  temporary.  It  expired  before  we  armed 
at  home,  and  was  quite  forgotten,  with  its  object,  by  the 
faft 


298  ic  o  s  s  -  a  i  D  K 


CHAPTER  XX. 

MBS.  SEATON,  May's  mother,  was  a  widow,  whose  household, 
once  numerous,  was  now  reduced,  by  marriages  and  removals,  to 
herself,  her  daughter,  and  one  son,  the  youngest  child.  Unwil- 
ling as  my  father  was  to  impose  upon  her  hospitality,  he  could 
not,  without  wounding  her  and  May  also,  decline  her  pressing 
request  that  we  would  make  her  house  our  home  while  we 
were  in  the  city.  For  the  invalid  and  myself,  he  accepted  the 
invitation,  alleging  the  convenient  location  of  his  hotel  to  the 
principal  business  mart  as  a  reason  why  he  selected  it  for  hia 
abode. 

It  was  night,  and  May  and  I,  wrapped  in  our  dressing-gowns, 
were  in  the  depths  of  a  six  hours'  dialogue.  As  a  particular 
favor  to  herself,  she  had  asked  me  to  share  her  chamber. 
Over  against  her  chair  and  workstand,  where  she  must  behold 
it  whenever  she  raised  her  eyes,  hung  Frederic's  portrait,  so  like 
his  living  self  that  my  heart  heaved  aching-ly  at  every  inspection 
of  it.  Who  could  have  judged  that  tne  mouth,  about  which 
lurked  the  arch  humor  I  had  seen  there  a  thousand  times,  the 
dilating  nostril,  the  eye  alive  with  soul,  were  copied  from  the  in- 
animate clay  ?  Yet  so  it  was.  Among  the  visitors  at  the  sea- 
Bhore,  that  fatal  summer,  was  an  eminent  artist,  who  formed  an 
acquaintance  with  my  brother,  matured  by  the  unceremonk  us 
customs  of  a  watering-place  into  friendship.  All  through  th 
night  that  followed  the  catastrophe,  this  man,  at  his  own  desire, 
matched  alone  by  the  corpse.  By  daybreak,  his  pencil  had 
sketched  the  outlines  of  this  picture,  and  from  the  image  imprinted 


M  O  S  8  -  8  I  D  E  .  299 

apon  his  retentive  memory,  he  supplied  the  rest  A  mouth  later, 
the  widow  received  it,  marked  by  no  name,  acccmpanied  by  nc 
message,  save  what  was  written  upon  a  slip  of  paper  attached  to 
the  frame — "  From  his  friend  and  yours."  The  matchless  work 
mauship  would  have  betrayed  the  author,  had  no  other  evidence 
been  forthcoming,  but  the  eccentric  donor  refused  thanks,  and 
nf>ver  confessed  the  benefaction. 

This  story  was  an  old  one  to  me,  and  not  mentioned  in  i/uf 
conversatioa 

"  You  have  not  named  Louise  Wilson."  I  said,  in  course  of 
time. 

"  Because  we  have  so  many  more  pleasant  things  to  talk 
about,"  was  May's  rejoinder.  "Her  life  is  all  public  ;  that  of 
her  husband,  all  private.  She  is  ostentatiously  happy  in  her 
fame,  he  undeniably  miserable  in  his  home." 

"  Bravo  for  our  gentle  May  1"  cried  I.  "  That  is  an  antithe- 
tical sentence  worthy  of  an  accomplished  satirist." 

She  blushed.  "  If  I  expressed  myself  with  sharpness,  it  was 
in  an  unguarded  moment.  Personally,  I  have  no  ground  for 
fault-finding  with  Louise.  She  is  kind  to  me  when  our  paths  in 
tersect,  which  is  more  frequently  than  one  would  think  who 
knows  the  contrariety  of  our  views  and  pursuits.  We  exchange 
calls  with  some  regularity  ;  and  she  never  sees  me  that  she  does 
not  inquire  after  you.  The  bond  of  our  school  intimacy  has  out- 
lasted natural  affection,  it  would  appear,  for  her  neglect  of  her 
parents  is  notorious." 

"  Have  they  quarrelled  I" 

"It  is  said  they  have  not.  Mrs.  Wynne  professes  to  fe>> 
fl^eat  pride  in  her  daughter,  but  Louise  informed  me,  the  last 
rime  she  was  here,  that  she  had  not  been  to  her  father's  foi 
nearly  a  year.  She  has  one  child,  a  boy,  for  whose  mental  pre 
gress  she  is  extremely  solicitous." 

"  He  must  be  a  comfort  to  his  father,"  I  said. 


300 


MOSS-SIDE. 


"  The  sole  jomfort  he  has,  setting  aside  his  business,  to  which 
he  is  devoted.  But  the  little  Howard  is  haughty,  as  beseems 
his  name,  and  begins  to  rule  and  hector  the  parent  whom  no  ou« 
in  the  house  affects  to  respect." 

"  Sc  true  is  it,"  I  mused,  "  that  when  a  wife  despises  her  hu* 
•and,  the  world  imitates,  although  it  may  scorn  her  mep.offLile." 

"  Have  you  read  any  of  Louise's  writings  ?"  questioned  May 

"  Some  fugitive  pieces,"  I  replied. 

"  Which  she  does  not  publish  now.  Her  most  elaborate  work 
is  just  out.  I  finished  it  yesterday,  and  laid  it  aside  for  your 
perusal." 

"Do  you  like  it?" 

"  It  is  powerfully  written  ;  as  to  the  rest  yon  must  form  your 
ideas  for  yourself.  It  is  no  ordinary  tale  of  fiction.  There  is 
purpose  as  well  as  power  in  it.  Reviewers  are  divided  pretty 
equally  with  regard  to  its  beauties  and  defects." 

The  sounding  waves  of  the  mighty,  invisible  ocean  to  which  I 
had  hearkened  in  awe  seven  years  before,  broke  around  my 
conch  this  night  with  more  articulate  roar.  I  required  no  inter- 
preter but  the  review  of  my  life  since  then,  and  the  histories 
intermingled  with  mine.  The  moonlight  poured  in  through  an 
unshuttered  window  atd  showed  me  the  portrait  on  the  wall— 
the  head  that  reposed  on  my  bosom.  Somewhere  upon  thia 
moaning,  never-quiet  sea,  was  another  lonely  skiff  that  would 
have  sailed  beside  me  through  all  the  vovage  of  Life.  Was  it 
tempest-tossed,  or  peacefully  moored  in  untroubled  waters? 
Although  so  near  to  one  another,  our  prows  were  not  to  touch 
in  kindly  greeting  ;  our  courses  must  ever  be  diverse. 

The  morrow  dawned  upon  me,  sleepless,  feverish,  heartsick. 
Hy  aunt  was  fatigued  by  journeying,  and  did  not  leave  her 
chamber  during  the  day  ;  and  there  I  lounged,  a  semi-invalid, 
»ud  read  Louise  s  book.  Had  May  surmised  my  unhealthy  st  ati 
cf  feeling,  she  would  as  soon  have  given  me  a  deadly  poison 


MOSS-SIDE 


301 


The  Press  disseminates  scores  of  such  works  ra  this  day  ;  this 
was  the  first  I  had  seen.  Woman  the  oppressed  and  Man  the 
oppressor  ;  Woman  the  slave  ;  Society,  Civilization  and  Religion 
as  preached  by  Man,  the  enslavers  ;  these  were  the  texts  insmu 
ated  rather  than  boldly  propounded  by  the  initial  chapter,  and 
then  the  attention  was  enchained  and  sympathy  enlisted,  the 
reader  had  glimpses  which  broadened  into  views — views  that  ex- 
panded beyond  the  horizon  of  present  vision,  of  Woman's  inner- 
most soul  in  its  ample  development ;  superhuman  in  intelligence, 
scarcely  inferior  to  Divinity  in  unblemished,  incorruptible  good- 
ness— of  her  Mission,  the  regeneration  of  her  race,  and  the  undis- 
puted possession  of  her  appropriate  sphere.  In  this,  she  should 
be  enthroned,  no  lower  than  the  angels,  while  he  who  had  ruled 
her,  purified,  by  her  influence,  from  the  gross  amalgam  of  his 
original  nature,  should  be  well-pleased  to  occupy  a  subordinate 
place,  and  adore  as  queen  and  priestess  the  radiant  Immaculate. 
With  inimitable  address,  the  author  worked  out  the  problem  of 
Life  to  this  demonstration.  She  craved  the  admission  of  one 
postulate,  viz.,  that  a  reform  was  needed,  and  this  no  one  with- 
held after  her  artful  introduction,  where  not  a  false  or  one-sided 
representation  was  discernible  to  the  most  critical  research,  and 
what  had  been  left  out  was  never  missed.  To  feminine  tact,  she 
added  the  fearlessness  of  the  Reformer,  the  zeal  of  the  Radical. 
The  vices  of  one  sex,  the  temptations  of  the  other,  the  applause 
that  hailed  triumphant  villauy,  the  ban  that  cursed  the  error  of 
the  weak  and  trusting — were  exposed  so  independently  as  to  con- 
Toy  an  impression  of  moral  sublimity  in  her  who  wielded  the  pen. 
In  her  Utopian  Paradise,  the  least  poetical  of  the  senses  was  re< 
fined  into  a  medium  of  spiritual  gratification  ;  birds  and  blossoms 
taught  celestial  truths  more  clearly  than  the  Bible  ;  in  a  iily  was 
material  better  worth  study  than  the  lives  of  prophets  and  apos- 
tles— and  to  the  clarified  visual  organs  were  vouchsafed  seraphic 
apparitions,  the  "  myriads"  who,  in  Milton's  time,  "  walked  tha 
parth  unseen" 


302  M  O  S  B  -  8  I  D  E  . 

This,  and  much  more,  I  drank  in,  never  staying  to  question 
the  source  or  the  elements  of  the  sparkling  draught.  Pearls  ol 
fancy,  diamonds  of  wit,  the  blood-red  ruby  of  passion  gemmec 
the  bowl,  and  dazzled  my  wavering  perceptions  of  good  and 
evil  I  read  swiftly  ;  by  dark  the  volume  was  finished.  I 
was  miserable  to  wretchedness  as  I  closed  it.  I  had  not  the 
Jauntless  spirit  of  the  defender  of  "  Woman's  Rights  ;"  was 
too  cowardly  to  buckle  on  armor  for  the.  crusade  to  which 
ihe  exhorted.  One  of  the  many  million  serfs  she  portrayed — 
shackled,  hand  and  foot,  by  despotism — what  hope  had  I  but  in 
death  ?  Her  Millenium  would  come  too  late  for  me. 

"  Are  you  here,  Grace  ?"   said  soft  accents. 

"  Yes — come  in,  May." 

She  groped  her  way  through  the  obscurity,  sat  down  upon  the 
Bofa,  and  took  my  head  in  her  lap,  fondling  it  as  if  it  had  been 
an  infant,  and  crooning  in  undertones  an  old  ballad.  Presently  I 
recovered  heart  to  pull  her  lips  down  to  mine. 

"  You  are  good  as  ever,  my  dearest  sister  !" 

"  Are  you  unhappy  this  evening  ?"  she  queried.  "  Your  voice 
sounds  sad.  Or  is  it  weariness  ?" 

"  I  am  depressed,  and  I  must  be  weak,  or  I  could  master  my 
spirits  better,"  I  replied. 

"  Louise's  story  is  answerable  for  some  part  of  the  melancholy, 
I  fear,"  said  she.  "  Am  I  right  ?" 

"  I  do  not  deny  it.  The  reflections  it  has  engendered  are  not 
the  most  advantageous  to  self-ease." 

"  It  is  a  bad  book,  Grace  I  pernicious  to  morality,  ruinous  t« 
the  healthy  contentment  of  the'mind.  I  read  it  with  the  infatth 
•tad  interest  you  have  exhibited  to-day,  and  its  work  upon  my 
feelings  was,  I  doubt  not,  identical  with  what  you  now  experi 
ence.  Yon  have  heard  of  the  Irishman,  who,  having  instituted 
a  suit  against  a  fraudulent  debtor,  was  observed  to  weep  pro- 
fusely while  his  counsel  was  speaking.  A  bystander  bad  th« 
curiosity  to  inquire  the  cause  of  this  extraordinary  demonstration 


MO  88- 8  IDE.  303 

Och  !  and  shure  I  niver  had  an  idee  -of  how  badly  I  was  thrated 
till  the  gintleman  explained  it  so  gintalely  !'  he  blubbered.  So 
I  was  in  blissful  ignorance  of  '  Woman's  wrongs' — in  blissful  apa- 
thy to  the  glorious  cause  of  '  Woman's  rights/  until  yon  harm- 
less-looking volume  told  me  the  story.  I  cannot  meet  argument 
With  argument,  for  Louise's  intellect  is  logical  as  brilliant,  and 
jaine  is  neither.  I  cannot  gainsay  her  report  of  unjust  legisla- 
tion .  and  the  arbitrary  oral  by-laws  of  popular  sentiment  against 
our  sex.  Every  permanent  reform  is  gradually  wrought,  and 
the  time  for  amending  these  abuses  will  come  as  quickly  and  aa 
surely  without  our  declaring  ourselves  in  insurrection.  It  is  de- 
grading, Grace  !  I  am  not  a  slave,  nor  are  you,  and  no  sophistry 
should  mislead  us  into  making  such  a  concession.  Against  what 
are  we  to  take  up  arms  ?" 

"  We  are  woefully  dependent,  May." 

"  Not  more  than  Man  is  upon  us.  In  the  symbols  of  royalty, 
the  external  trappings  that  belong  to  power,  he  is  the  sovereign, 
as  he  is  physically  our  superior.  There  are  men  who  employ 
brute  force  to  maltreat  children  and  women  ;  but  what  is  their 
proportion  to  the  multitude  of  tender  fathers  and  kind  hus- 
bands ?  I  love — I  reverence  a  good,  wise  man  as  the  master- 
piece of  his  Creator.  Rulers  there  must  be,  and  since  I  perceive 
in  myself  no  vocation  for  the  office,  I  had  rather  submit  to 
his  jurisdiction  than  to  a  female  autocracy." 

May  had  pondered  these  subjects  better  than  I,  but  I  objected 
to  this  remark — "  May  there  not  be  a  medium,  a  division  of 
labor  and  of  power  ?  Why  lodge  all  authority  in  the  hands  of 
one  ?" 

"  Would  you  have  then  a  government  like  the  feet  and  toet 
of  Nebuchadnezzar's  dream-image — a  mixture  of  iron  and  of 
clay?  And  this  reminds  me  of  what  struck  me  most  unfa- 
vorably in  this  work.  You  and  I,  Grace  dear,  believe  in  a  God, 
»  heaven,  and  a  Bible — in  thi?  last  as  entirely  as  in  the  other 
two.  Is  it  not  a  significant  token  of  the  fallacy  of  many  of  thes« 


804  MOSS-SIDE. 

nodern  '  isms  that  they  wrest  the  plainest  passages  of  Holy 
writ  ;  erase  some  as  spurious,  and  if  hard-pressed  to  establish 
their  systems  of  doctrine,  cast  discredit  upon  the  whole.  '  If 
Woman,'  say  Louise  and  her  disciples,  '  is  declared  by  Scripture 
to  he  weaker  than  he  who  has  basely  usurped  the  title  of  lord 
said  governor, — is  enjoined  to  be  subject  to  his  will,  to  ser\e 
im  in  humility  and  meekness,  we  discard  the  Bible  that  teaches 
•ucn  monstrous  tyranny.' " 

"  Oh  !  now  you  are  too  severe  !"  I  exclaimed. 

"  Am  I F'  her  voice  gaining  earnestness.  "  It  is  the  fault  of 
'my  understanding,  not  of  my  heart,  if  my  judgment  is  harsh.  I 
have  spoken  out  the  best  meaning  I  can  put  upon  Louise's  fine- 
spun  dissertations,  her  grand  theories  concerning  '  natural  reli- 
gion ,'  and  the  '  higher  law  of  instinct,'  the  '  newer  and  divine 
revelation  of  intuitions,'  and  '  spirit  communications.'  What  do 
these  expressions  signify  if  not  what  I  have  said?  Are  nit 
these  teachings  inculcated  in  every  page,  in  every  line  ?  '  Spou 
taneous  affinities  ;'  the  '  infinitude  of  the  finite  ;'  the  '  Iris-chain 
of  beautiful  truth  that  conducts  the  receptive  soul  to  deeper 
sublimer  spirit  mysteries ' — are  terms  which  I  am  not  ashamed 
to  say  I  do  not  understand.  They  belong  to  the  cant  of  the 
sect,  for  sneer  as  they  will  at  '  sectarian  dogmas,'  they  are  a  sect, 
and  cant  after  their  fashion,  more  than  did  Cromwell's  Round 
heads." 

"  Poor  Louise  I"  I  sighed,  after  an  interval  of  painful 
thought.  "  If  she  had  been  a  happy  wife,  this  book  would  never 
have  been  written." 

"  There,"  said  May,  "  you  have  the  key  to  every  incident  ol 
oer  public  career,  every  doctrin^  she  advocates." 

I  could  see  that  she  looked  at  the  cherished  portrait 

"  Only  the  other  day,"  she  continued,  "  I  was  reading  the 
'  Records  of  Woman,'  and  dwelt  tearfully  upon  this  definition  of 
her  wants  and  '  mission,'  penned  by  one  who  poured  forth  th€ 
plaint  of  her  own  grieving  heart  in  the  lines." 


MOBS-SIDE.  303 

There  were  tears  m  her  voice  now,  as  she  recited  them. 

"  '  Thou  shalt  have  Fame  !'  Oh,  mockery !  give  the  reed 
From  storms  a  shelter,  give  the  drooping  vine 
Something  round  which  its  tendrils  may  entwine  ; 
Give  the  parched  flower  a  rain-drop,  and  the  meed 
Of  Love's  kind  words  to  woman.    ****** 
If  I  could  weep 

-     Once,  only  once,  beloved  one  !  on  thy  breast — 
Pouring  my  heart  forth  ere  I  sink  to  rest ! 
But  that  were  happiness — and  unto  me 
Earth's  gift  is  Fame !'  " 

Our  family  group  was  collected  hi  the  parlor  for  a  social 
evening,  when  "  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wilson,"  were  announced.  Their 
entrance  reversed  the  order  of  the  footman's  words,  for  Louise 
sailed  in  upon  us  ere  I  could  rise  to  receive  her.  Her  figure  was 
fuller,  and,  I  thought  taller,  than  when  she  was  first  married,  so 
majestic  was  her  mien.  She  kissed  me  with  a  sentence  of  greet 
ing,  beautifully  turned  and  delivered,  and  continued  the  round 
of  the  little  company,  while  I  was  transfixed  in  a  sort  of  stupid 
wonder  ;  lost  in  the  endeavor  to  connect  recollection  and  obser- 
vation. 

"  Sappho  I  Corinne  1"  I  said,  over  and  over  again.  "  Is  this 
Juno,  the  pitied  sacrifice  of  a  mother's  ambition,  the  unhappy, 
unloving  consort  of  a  man  she  held,  in  utter  contempt  ?w 

This  directed  me  to  him.  I  was  pained  by  the  alteration 
in  his  appearance.  The  hair  was  thin  npon  the  crown  of  hia 
head,  and  tipped  with  iron-grey  ;  his  face  and  form  were  spare 
to  leanness  ;  he  stooped  in  the  shoulders,  and  had  a  slouching 
gait  at  variance  with  his  former  brisk  step.  The  hund  he  gan 

!  was  unbending  as  a  piece  of  jointless  wood,  and  his  bow  was 
effected  by  machinery  as  stiff.  He  crept  into  a  chair,  and 
would,  I  believe,  have  been  a  speechless  fixture  the  whole  lime 
he  stayed,  but  for  Alfred  Seaton's  good  nature.  He  seated 
himself  near  the  hermit-corner,  and  talked  "  business." 


806  M  O  8  S  -  8  I  D  E  . 

Ljnise  was  gay  and  chatty. 

"  It  has  been  seven  ages  since  we  met,"  she  said  to  me,  "  en 
are  not  twelve  months  reckoned  an  age  in  your  rural  retreat?  I 
should  suppose  not,  or,  at  least,  that  the  greybeard  of  the 
•  ythe  and  hourglass  has  forgotten  to  mark  the  passage  even  of 
inys  upon  you.  As  I  look  at  you,  it  seems  but  yesterday  tha 
re  parted." 

1  might  have  rejoined  that  the  stranger  who  was  yesterday 
presented  to  me,  would  have  acted  as  much  like  the  friend  of 
by-gone  hours  as  she  did.  It  was  not  affected  indifference,  but 
the  nonchalance  of  one  used  to  the  world,  who  smiled  at  early 
loves  and  hopes  as  sickly  dreams.  She  was  in  party  costume, 
and  the  robe,  in  texture  and  hue,  was  in  keeping  with  her  posi- 
tion as  a  wife  and  mother.  But  the  corsage  retreated  from  the 
bosom  and  shoulders  with  a  freedom  that  caused  my  cheeks  to 
burn  with  unsophisticated  blushes,  and  the  arms  were  sur- 
mounted by  an  ornamental  band — a  capital  to  the  rounded 
shaft,  and  which  was  called  by  courtesy,  a  sleeve. 

"  I  am  engaged  out  this  evening,"  she  excused  her  brief  visit. 
"  I  only  dropped  in  here  to  welcome  you  to  our  midst.  When 
shall  I  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  in  my  own  house  ?  I  do 
not  receive  morning  calls  except  upon  my  '  at  home '  days,  and 
I  do  not  wish  you  to  present  yourself  in  that  melde.  Cannot 
you  and  your  sister  favor  me  with  your  company  to  dinner  on 
Thursday?" 

I  left  the  reply  to  May,  who  was  disengaged,  and  I  consented 
to  go,  with  the  proviso  that  should  my  aunt  be  worse  or  require 
my  presence,  I  must  be  excused.  The  next  day  was  the  medical 

examination,  and  Dr. 's  judgment  reanimated  our  courage 

and  infused  something  of  our  hopefulness  into  the  patient'* 
heart.  A  letter  from  Lilly  completed  the  cure  of  my  me.an 
choly. 

"  Has  our  encounter  in  the  pine-wood  with  the  '  Wild  Hunt* 


M  0  6  8-8  I  D  E.  307 

man '  escaped  your  mind  ?"  she  wrote.  "  If  not,  know  you, 
Auntie  dear,  tnat  this  phantom  was  very  substantial  flesh — being 
no  less  a  personage  than  the  'little  boy,'  Peyton  Elliott,  whom 
he  says,  I  patronized  with  infinite  condescension,  the  Christmas  of 
my  installation  at  Moss-side.  He  has  been  at  college  for  four 
years,  and  is  now  improving  his  emancipation  by  what  he  is 
pleased  to  term  '  loafing '  at  Linden,  and  for  which  perfect  idle 
ness  I  can  devise  no  more  expressive  epithet.  He  is  kind  and 
sociable  with  the  children  and  myself,  and  Mr.  Peyton  is  much 
attached  to  him." 

To  Louise's,  therefore,  we  went  on  Thursday,  at  an  hour 
when,  as  I  told  May,  dinner-guests  at  Moss-side  were  thinking  of 
going  home.  The  establishment  was  handsome  ;  in  nothing  re- 
sembling the  picture  one  is  apt  to  sketch  of  a  literary  lady'a 
abode.  Louise  was  the  polite  hostess,  the  life  of  the  party, 
which  numbered  some  half-dozen  beside  ourselves — all  talkers 
but  Mr.  Wilson.  He  sat  at  the  foot  of  the  table  and  performed 
the  duties  of  carver  and  decanter-master  with  a  spiritless  air 
that  was  really  pathetic. 

My  vis-a-vis  was  a  bald  gentleman  with  spectacles  ;  next  him 
was  a  lady  capped  and  spectacled  ;  then  May,  and  then  a  young 
man  of  flaxen  complexion,  moustaches  and  hair  to  match,  and 
a  double  eye-glass  pendant  from  the  upper  button  of  his  vest. 
Although  I  knew  this  house  to  be  the  resort  of  a  certain  clique 
of  literati,  I  had  not  expected  that  any,  even  of  the  lesser  lights, 
would  be  invited  to  waste  their  effulgence  upon  a  couple  of 
Louise's  schoolmates,  who  were  unknown  except  to-  a  small  pri 
vate  circle,  and  anything  but  "progressive "  in  taste  and  a-spira 
tions.  The  conversation  at  table  was  on  a  par  with  such  din 
Ler-talk  as  I  had  participated  in  many  times  before,  and  whcD 
called  upon,  1  bore  my  share  in  it  without  diffidence. 

There  was  more  company  in  the  parlors  when  we  repaired 
thither. 


308  MO  8S-8IDE. 

My  eyes  ran  eagerly  through  the  rooms  in  a  quest,  un& railing 
as  unwarrantable. 

"  Did  I  hope  to  see  him  here  ?"  I  asked  myself.  "  Should  1 
uot  have  shrunk  from  the  meeting  instead  ?  It  is  best  thtw 
Shame  on  the  heart,  that  bravery  should  desert  it  at  this  latt 
day  I" 

But  I  was  repeating  in  my  old  way — "  Nevermore  I"  when 
May  addressed  me. 

"  Do  you  know,  sis,  into  what  goodly  company  we  have  fallen  ? 
Here  is  a  varied  assortment  of  one  dramatist,  two  editors, 
three  poets,  four  poetesses,  and  five  prose  authors — I  did  not 
gay  '  prosy,'  by  a  slip  of  the  tongue — did  I  ?  In  short,  our  host 
and  ourselves  are  the  only  undistinguished  persons  in  tha 
room." 

"  Indeed  !"  said  I,  looking  around  me,  and  somehow  expect 
ing  to  descry  the  labels  affixed  to  the  celebrities  she  had  named 
"  Where  are  they  all  ?" 

"  The  play-writer  leans  against  the  wall  in  that  corner.  He 
was  my  neighbor  at  dinner — he  of  the  sandy  love-locks  and  quiz- 
jting-glass.  He  is  talking  to  a  poetess  and  an  authoress." 

"  They  look  very  much  like  other  people,"  I  remarked, 
naively. 

"  And  talk  like  them,  too,"  she  responded.  "  There  is  one  person 
here  whom  you  will  not  object  to  meeting.  Do  you  note  that  young 
man  standing  at  this  end  of  the  piano  ;  neither  talking  nor  yet 
dreading,  but  bearing  himself  like  a  sensible  gentleman,  ready  to 
do  the  one  if  occasion  offers,  and  who  never  gives  way  to  the 
other  in  society  ?" 

"  I  see  him.     Who  is  he  ?" 

"  The  author  of  the  exquisite  poem  for  the  sake  of  which  701 
forwarded  the Magazine  to  Lilly." 

"  May  !  you  are  not  in  earnest  ?" 

"  Why  am  I  not,  my  dear  ?" 


MOSS-SIDE  309 

•'  He  is  so  y  juthfui,"  I  said.  "  He  is  neither  pale,  tall,  nor 
lachrymose." 

"  Cogent  reasons — all  of  them,  why  he  should  never  attempt 
pot  try/'  she  replied.  "  Add  to  them  that  he  eschews  spectacles 
and  trims  his  hair,  and  any  jury  would  acquit  him  of  such  a 
deed.  Or,  if  a  touch  of  doubt  remained,  I  could  clear  it  away 
by  representing  that  I  am  personally  acquainted  with  him  ;  that 
he  often  converses  with  me,  a  nobody,  when  there  are  somebodies 
by — and  that  I  comprehend  and  admire  everything  that  he  writes." 

He  smiled  and  bowed  now,  and  came  over  to  speak  to  her.  A 
figure  rather  short  and  square-built  ;  a  good-humored,  healthy- 
colored  face  ;  a  sparkling  eye — these  were  the  results  of  my 
hasty  scanning  of  the  personage  whom  she  introduced  to  me.  As 
Bhe  had  said,  he  spoke  as  he  looked,  the  simple  gentleman.  The 
Biored  imaginings,  rich  aud  glowing  as  the  treasures  of  oriental 
mine  and  forest,  were  not  with  him  baubles  to  be  sported  with 
by  the  frothy  surface-waves.  Yet,  as  we  became  better  acquaint- 
ed, he  permitted  us  to  see  a  stray  flash  ;  the  ripple  was  some- 
times a  cleft,  through  which  shone  the  bright  and  precious  things 
of  the  depths.  To  me,  he  was  kindly  attentive,  obscure  strangei 
as  I  was,  uninteresting  as  I  appeared  at  the  first.  I  rejoice  that 
this  was  the  outward  stamp  of  the  only  confessed  poet  I  have 
ever  known,  and  that  my  conceptions  of  the  class  are  formed 
from  it.  The  Aurora  of  Fame  was  then  just  touching  his  brow 
with  faint  prophetic  gleam.  It  is  now  broad  day.  Where  then 
one  tongue,  one  heart  uttered  his  praise,  a  thousand  shout  it  now. 
May  thousands  more  yet  echo  it  ! 

Mr.  Wilson,  all  this  while,  was  secluded  in  his  nook,  between  a 
pier-table  and  a  voluminous  window-curtain.  I  think  he  had  an 
histinct  for  discovering  out-of-the-way  places,  and  he  immured 
himself  in  them  whenever  he  could.  He  noticed  nobody,  and 
nobody  noticed  him.  His  eyes  were  generally  engaged  in  the 
perusal  of  a  patch  of  the  carpet,  about  a  foot  square  ;  h*«  hands 


510  MO  S  8-B  I  D  K, 

were  crossed  at  the  wrists  upon  his  lap.  A  broken-spirited  an« 
a  miserable  man  I  knew  him  to  be,  and  I  pitied  him  from  my 
soul,  as  I  traced  the  seams  of  care  and  toil  in  his  visage — toil, 
that  she  whom  he  had  wooed  lovingly,  won  exultiugly,  might 
maintain  the  state  her  imperious  pride  demanded  ;  care,  ah  1 
what  of  care  and  anguish  had  not  tried  his  heart  ? 

I  summoned  hardihood,  when  I  thought  myself  least  observed, 
to  approach  him.  He  made  way  for  me  to  pass,  and  was  con- 
founded when  I  took  an  ottoman  near  him  instead.  His  lips 
parted  twice  before  a  sound  came  forth. 

"  I  hope  you  are  well  this  evening,  Miss  Leigh." 

"  Quite  well,  thank  you.  Mr.  Wilson,  I  have  a  favor  to  crave 
from  you." 

He  bowed. 

"  I  want  to  see  your  boy.  I  watched  for  him  when  the  dessert 
was  brought,  and  then  hoped  that  he  would  be  in  the  parlor 
He  is  not  sick,  I  hope." 

"  No  ;"  and  he  seemed  really  gratified.  "  Children  are  noisy, 
and  his  mother  does  not  often  send  for  him  to  the  drawing-room 
He  takes  his  meals  in  the  nursery.  His  mother  thinks  rich  food 
is  injurious  to  him." 

"  He  is  asleep  now,  I  suppose." 

"  He  may  be  ;  but  he  is  frequently  awake  later  than  this  Hik 
mother  prefers  that  he  should  not  go  to  bed  too  soon.  She 
thinks  too  much  sleep  will  make  him  heavy." 

"  Master  Howard,  too,  is  a  monopoly  enjoyed  exclusively  by 
his  mother,  it  appears,"  thought  I.  "Is  the  nursery  forbidden 
to  visitors  ?"  I  inquired. 

"  No  ;  that  is — I  believe  not.  His  mother  invites  her  friend 
up  occasionally.  I  do  not  know  whether  she  is  willing  that  any 
one  should  see  him  in  the  evening." 

"  She  will  not  refuse  me,  I  think,"  answered  I,  intercepting 
Louise  on  her  way  by  us 


M088-BIDK  311 

"  What  is  it  ?"  she  asked. 

"  I  am  desirous  to  make  the  acquaintance  jf  your  Duke  How 
ard,"  I  said,  "  and  am  begging  Mr.  Wilson  to  grant  me  admit> 
tance  to  his  domain  at  this  unseasonable  hour." 

"You  caa  go,  certainly,"  was  her  reply.  "Mr.  Wilson  will, 
jrith  pleasure,  show  you  the  way." 

With  a  reverence  to  her  and  to  me,  he  offered  his  arm 
^Tords  were  superfluous — had  not  she  spoken  ? 

The  nursery  was  a  commodious  and  elegant  apartment,  but,  as 
it  seemed  to  me,  rather  fanciful  in  some  of  its  appointments.  The 
pictures,  with  which  the  walls  were  lined,  were  principally  allegor 
ical,  altogether  beyond  the  comprehension  of  a  child.  Ther* 
were  busts  and  statuettes,  and  directly  opposite  the  muslin-veiled 
crib  was  suspended  a  large,  beautifully  carved  alabaster  cross, 
with  a  wreathing  serpent — a  mystic  symbol,  whose  meaning  I 
could  not  appreciate.  Vases  of  flowers  were  set  about  on  brack- 
ets, above  the  reaching  baby-fingers — teachers  of  Nature's 
beauties,  which  the  pupil  would  have  been  too  happy  to  ex- 
change for  a  handful  of  dandelions  and  wild  grasses,  if  he  might 
litter  the  floor  with  them.  Books  there  were,  in  plenty  and  vari- 
ety ;  of  toys,  there  were  none,  except  a  philosophical  apparatus, 
which,  at  the  moment  of  our  entrance,  the  heir  of  the  house  wa> 
insisting  should  be  broken  in  pieces  to  aid  in  the  construction  of 
a  store  he  was  building  of  books. 

"  I  will  1  I  say  I  will  1"  he  screamed  vociferously.  "  Give  it 
to  me,  or  I  will  complain  to  mamma,  you  old  thing  1" 

The  opposing  force  was  a  Swiss-French  woman,  an  amphibious 
jreature — nursery-maid  and  governess,  whose  rising  wrath  sank 
»hen  she  beheld  us. 

"  Master  Howart  is  indispose',  I  tink,"  she  said,  courtesying 
"  He  is  a  lamb  most  times,  madame." 

•'  Papa,"  roared  the  enraged  lamb,  "  make  Felice  reach  iowi 
that  for  me  1" 


312  M  C 8  8  -  8  I  D  E  . 

*'  My  son  !  will  not  something  else  answer  the  purpose  ?  What 
do  you  want  me  to  get  for  you  instead  ?"  Mr.  Wilson  faltered, 
eyeing  in  fear  the  angry  countenance,  babyish  though  it  was. 

"  1  will  have  that,  and  nothing  else  1"  persisted  the  boy,  ob- 
Itinately  ;  and  there  was  in  look  and  voice  a  painful  resemblance 
k)  Lmise,  as  I  had  seen  her  at  the  beginning  of  her  wedded  es 
t*is,  before  her  heart-petrifaction  was  thorough. 

"  But  what  will  your  mother  say,  my  son  ?" 

4  I'll  see  to  that  1"  with  an  air  of  superiority. 

"  Well,"  submitted  Mr.  Wilson,  "  let  him  have  it,  Felice.  If 
lit  breaks  it,  I  can  buy  another  to-morrow." 

The  amphibious  lady  did  not  remove  her  black  lace  mitts  aui 
the  hands  they  adorned  from  the  pockets  of  her  apron.  Inclin- 
ing her  head  yet  further  towards  her  left  shoulder,  she  objected 
positively  to  the  concession. 

"  Pardon,  monsieur,  but  madame  have  ordered  expressdment 
Master  Howart  uevair  to  play  wid  dat  when  she  not  here  to  give 
it  him.  /  obey  order." 

By  implication,  the  stress  laid  upon  the  personal  pronoun  in 
fehis  clause  said,  "  Whether  you  do  or  not  1" 

"  What  shall  I  do,  Miss  Leigh  ?"  prayed  Mr.  Wilson,  in  dis- 
tress. Between  awe  of  the  unmanageable  boy,  and  his  mother, 
who  controlled  everything  about  her,  his  dilemma  was  undesir- 
able. 

"  Howard,"  I  said,  but  hopelessly,  "  what  will  you  do  with 
that  clumsy  toy  ?  I  do  not  think  it  pretty." 

"I  do  I  and  I  want  it  to  build  my  store  with,"  he  returned 
crustily. 

"  I  should  not  call  it  a  very  good  thing  for  that." 

"  That's  because  you  dou't  know,  you  see.  Those  posts  "— 
pointing  to  the  cylinders  supporting  the  crucible  or  boiler — "  ar 
exactly  like  some  I  saw  to-day  to  a  store  down  town,  and  T 
have  them  I" 


MOSS-SIDE.  313 

"  Where  is  your  house  ?     Let  me  look  at  it,"  I  suggested 

Diverted  by  this  turn  of  the  subject,  he  forgot  the  coveted  ar- 
ticle for  a  minute,  but  that  was  long  enough  for  Mademoiselle 
Felice  to  whip  the  queer  machine  that  had  begotten  the  ferment, 
rindt'i-  the  ruffled,  be-bowed  scrap  of  silk,  which  was  the  founda- 
tion of  her  pockets,  carry  it  into  the  dressing-room,  and  be  back 
to  her  position  by  the  bedstead,  lace  mitts  ensconced  as  before, 
and  an  innocent  smirk  upon  her  hard  lips.  Then  Howard,  who 
had  been  explaining  his  building  plans  to  me  with  alacrity  and 
intelligence,  returned  to  the  original  charge,  and  detected  the 
trick. 

"  The  lisping  of  infancy  is  the  dialect  of  angelic  communities," 
said  his  mother's  book.  This  stout  six-year-old  had  lost  the  re- 
collection of  its  very  elements,  for  hi  no  vocabulary  seraphic,  in 
use  among  the  elite  of  the  "  lower  spheres "  even,  could  have 
been  found  the  epithets  he  launched  at  the  entire  party,  individu- 
ally and  collectively.  In  Billingsgate  and  a  French  Billingsgate, 
one  might  have  sought  with  better  chance  of  success.  The  am- 
phibious lady  was  unmoved  in  smirk  and  attitude.  Mr.  Wilson, 
goaded  to  action,  placed  his  hand  in  pacification  upon  the  head 
of  his  hopeful  scion.  He  struck  it  off,  and  an  oath,  sounding  and 
furious,  burst  from  his  mouth. 

"  Had  not  we  better  go  down,  Miss  Leigh  ?"  said  the  insulted 
parent,  his  leaden  complexion  crimsoning  with  mortification  and 
suppressed  feeling. 

"  Go  along  1"  shouted  Howard,  taking  this  movement  aa 
a:i  acknowledgment  of  defeat  ;  "  and  never  come  in  here 
again  !  I'll  tell  mamma  of  you  all.  She'll  show  you  who  is 
uaster." 

Mademoiselle  Felice  sidled  to  the  door  ;  courtesyed  anew,  an 
obeisance  compounded  of  maid  and  governess,  and  was  "vair 
sorry  madame  should  have  seen  Master  Howart  in  one  such  mis- 
fortune." 

14 


314  MOB8-8IDK. 

"  When  yon  come  again,  he  will  be  dispose'  in  body,  and  la 
Tair  good  temper — parfaitement  aiinable,  madame  1" 

Silently,  we  wended  our  way  down  the  spacious  staircases, 
BO  carpeted  that  no  step  creaked  in  the  descent. 

"  This  is  splendid  misery  I"  I  thought,  "  and  this  abject  sufferer 
s  its  owner  !" 

Disrespectful  as  the  idea  was  to  her  as  my  hostess,  it  obtruded 
itself :  "  Is  this  Louise's  tyrant  ?  and  this  her  manner  of  prose- 
cuting reform  ?  Must  the  wife's  emancipation  necessarily  involve 
the  husband's  slavery  ?" 

It  was  a  crude  notion,  and  is  here  set  down  as  it  entered  my 
cranium  at  the  bottom  of  the  second  flight ;  but  it  was  to  me 
what  Louise's  sect  would  style  a  "  spirit  manifestation,"  and  I 
am  inclined  now  to  regard  it  as  less  nonsensical,  attendant  cir- 
cumstances considered,  than  many  of  the  Socratically-put  argu- 
ments that  upon  the  pages  of  "My  Mission?  What?"  had 
teemed  unanswerable 


MOBS-SIDE. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


had  been  further  additions  to  the  companj  while  we 
were  out  This  I  observed  casually,  as  I  obeyed  Louise's  beckon- 
ing finger.  The  magnet  of  a  select  circle,  she  was  in  high  bloom 
and  spirits.  She  swept  aside  her  flowing  robes  to  make  space 
for  me  upon  her  divan. 

"  My  friend,  Miss  Leigh,  Dr.  Harney." 

A  grey-haired  gentleman,  with  an  eagle  eye  and  a  benevo- 
lently smiling  mouth,  arose  and  bowed. 

"  Pray  go  on  1"  said  Louise  to  him,  "  or  stay  !  let  Miss  Leigh 
be  informed  as  to  the  subject  of  the  controversy.  You  have 
missed  much  by  not  hearing  it,"  to  me.  "  Such  opponents  do 
not  often  engage  one  another." 

I  gave  a  thought  to  the  less  refined  warfare  I  had  witnessed 
in  the  meantime  ;  but  signified  my  curiosity  to  be  instructed  in 
the  merits  of  this  one. 

"  Briefly  then,"  continued  Louise,  "  inasmuch  as  any  descrip- 
tion of  mine  will  be  a  witless  affair  to  those  who  have  listened  to 
the  debate,  and  we  are  impatient  to  have  it  proceed,  Mrs. 
Rowland  laments  the  poverty  of  real  life  in  the  matters  of 
romance  and  poetry,  and  Dr  Harney  asserts  that  all  of  both, 
contained  in  written  story,  is  meagre  in  quantity  and  quality, 
when  compared  with  the  dramas  and  tragedies  acted  out  before 
ns  and  by  us  every  day  we  live." 

She  spoke  lightly,  yet  not  scornfully,  and  the  disputants  were 
satisfied  with  her  statement. 

Mrs  Rowland  had  seen,  perhaps,  fifty  years  of  the  barren 


816  M  O  8  8  -  B  I  D  K  . 

existence  she  protested  was  "insupportable  to  a  craving  intet 
lect  and  sensitive  heart."  A  sharp,  quick  utterance  ;  a  pair  of 
sharp,  quick  eyes  lent  a  shrewish  character  to  her  discourse,  while 
Dr.  Harney's  courtesy  was  unvarying.  Her  aim  was  to  show 
now  the  contact  of  man  with  his  fellows,  under  the  present  con- 
ititntion  of  society  blunted  his  nicer  feelings  ;  "  rendered  gross 
his  spiritual  faculties  ;"  "  materialized  his  ethereal  essence." 

The  doctor's  mouth  twitched  as  she  brought  out  this  expres- 
sion. If  aught  so  intangible  could  be  handled,  he  did  it  politely 
but  with  ability.  I  was  getting  mystified  by  more  transcenden- 
tal jargon,  when  he  introduced  a  little  story,  narrated  with  no 
straining  after  effect,  in  unvarnished  English,  made  eloquent 
by  his  feeling  manner  and  ite  truth 

"  In  the  summer  of  18 — ,  the  city  of was  decimated  by 

the  worst  plague  that  has  ever  cursed  our  Western  country. 
All  who  could  quit  the  place  fled  from  it  ;  but  there  were 
thousands  left  upon  whom  Death  might  feed.  Hospitals  were 
crowded ;  graveyards  overflowed  ;  and  neither  nurses  nor  sextons 
could  be  hired  in  sufficient  numbers  to  supply  the  increasing  need. 
Business  was  suspended  ;  loss  and  gain  were  disregarded  when 
the  question  "  to  die  or  to  live  ?"  was  forced  upon  every  man'a 
consideration.  In  my  rounds  through  the  principal  hospital,  I 
was  thrown  much  into  the  company  of  a  young  physician,  who 
had  emigrated  from  this  State  to  try  his  fortune  in  a  less 
thronged  field.  He  was  a  grand-looking  fellow  ;  straight  us  an 
Indian,  and  the  picture  of  healthful,  vigorous  manhood.  Hia 
strength  of  nerve  was  marvellous.  He  bore  sights  that  whit- 
ened the  faces  of  veterans  in  the  service,  with  an  equanimity 
and  a  presence  of  mind  I  have  never  seen  in  any  other  person  01 
acute  sensibilities.  While  there  was  a  glimmer  of  hope,  while 
the  breath  of  a  patient  lasted,  he  ceased  not  to  exert  himself  for 
his  recovery.  No  spectacle  of  disease  and  woe  was  so  revolting 
as  to  daunt  him,  yet  I  have  known  him  to  weep  in  womanly  soft- 


M  O  8  8-  8  I  D  E.  31  'I 

ness  aver  the  remains  of  the  poor  wretches,  who  nad  no  daini 
upon  him  except  that  of  humanity.  He  was  the  favorite  of  all 
in  the  wards — the  sick,  their  nurses  and  his  brother  doctors. 
Day  after  day  he  walked  beside  me  with  a  fleet  tread  fat  [gut 
could  not  make  languid  ;  the  restorative  of  his  voice  and  smik 
doing  me  as  much  good  as  it  did  the  sufferers,  who  watched  and 
prayed  for  his  coming. 

"  I  loved  him  as  a  younger  brother,  and  as  the  pestilence 
began  to  subside,  I  set  my  wits  to  work  upon  the  surest  method 
of  aiding  him  in  his  professional  course  without  hurt  to  his  deli 
cacy.  My  own  practice  was  extensive,  and  short  as  had  been  our 
intercourse,  I  resolved  to  invite  him  forthwith'to  become  my  assist- 
ant ;  in  time,  my  partner.  Upon  this  business,  and  nothing  else, 
I,  one  day,  called  at  his  room.  He  was  sick,  he  said — how  oddly 
it  sounded  from  him  1  and  was  just  thinking  of  sending  for  me. 
I  attributed  his  fever  and  debility  to  overwork,  and  commanded 
him  to  keep  his  bed  for  the  remainder  of  the  day.  Within  the 
hour  of  my  departure,  he  was  summoned  imperatively  to  visit 
some  one  who  was  dangerously  ill.  Feeling  better  at  the 
thought  of  action,  he  arose,  dressed  and  went  out  upon  what 
was  his  last  errand  of  mercy.  That  night,  a  messenger,  in  hot 
haste,  aroused  me  from  sleep  to  attend  ray  friend.  He  was 
already  in  a  critical  condition.  He  told  me  this  before  I  could 
apprise  him  of  it. 

"  '  While  I  am  sensible,  doctor,'  he  said,  '  I  would  intrust  you 
with  one  or  two  final  commissions.' 

"  No  hero  of  romance  or  poetry,  Mrs.  Rowland,  could  have 
manifested  more  fortitude,  no  martyr  more  resignation. 

"  '  Don't  think  of  final  commissions,  my  dear  boy,'  I  answered, 
with  a  choking  in  my  throat.     '  Your  iron  frame  will  show  bravo 
fight,  and  as  like  as  not,  come  off  victorious.' 
•     "  '  I  hope  so,  doctor  ;  but  I  do  not  agree  with  you  that  this 
is  the  most  likely  termination  of  the  struggle     I  stand  almost 


818  MOSS-SIDE. 

alone  in  the  world,  for  I  am  an  orphan,  with  no  near  relatives 
but  life  is  precious,  and  there  are  other  loves  than  those   of 
cnildhood's  home/' 

"  He  drew  from  his  bosom  a  locket,  hung  by  a  ribl  on  about 
bis  neck.  '  Look  at  that,  sir  !' 

J<  It  was  the  miniature  of  a  very  beautiful  woman. 

"  '  She  is  my  betrothed,'  he  resumed  ;  '  the  spring  of  every 
effort  becoming  a  man  that  I  make  ;  my  star  and  prize,  set 
steadfastly  before  my  face  in  whatever  direction  my  Fate  con- 
ducts me.  My  death  will  break  her  heart.  Is  it  a  wonder  that 
I  wish  to  live  ?' 

"  '  And  live  you  shall — for  her — if  there  be  efficacy  in  mortal 
skill  !'  I  returned. 

"  '  Thank  you  !'  squeezing  my  hand.  '  But  should  this  fail, 
yon  will  take  charge  of  my  effects,  and  write  to  her — gently, 
tenderly,  doctor  !  for  the  shock  will  be  great.  She  loves  me  1' 

"  The  pathos  of  these  three  words  I  cannot  describe  to  you. 
A  volume  of  written  poetry  could  not  convey  so  much  of  devo- 
tion and  agony.  He  gave  me  her  address  ;  added  instructions 
touching  some  unsettled  pecuniary  concerns,  and  resigned  him- 
self to  my  care.  The  best  medical  aid  the  city  could  supply  was 
obtained  ;  consultations  were  held  hourly  ;  no  means  or  pains 
were  spared.  For  two  days  he  battled  for  the  life  which  was 
hers  ;  on  the  third,  he  sank.  The  miniature,  a  tress  of  her  hair 
and  her  letters  moulder  with  him  in  his  untimely  grave. 

"  This  was  love  until  death.  It  is  an  everyday  story,  Mrs. 
Rowland,  but  the  secret  of  two  lives  is  infolded  in  it." 

"  And  the  lady  ?"  questioned  a  gentleman. 

"  I  wrote  to  her,  as  I  had  promised,  and  never  received  a 
reply.  I  hardly  expected  one,  although  it  would  have  comforted 
me  in  my  affliction,  and  could  not  have  augmented  hers." 

"  What  became  of  her  ?  or  did  vou  lose  all  trace  of  her  witli 
the  end  of  this  correspondence  ?" 


M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  E  .  31fi 

J  could  scarcely  believe  my  own  ears,  when  Louise's  unaltered 
roice  fell  upon  them.  Her  eyes  were  clear  and  dry,  while  rains 
were  filling  fast. 

"  I  do  not  even  remember  her  name,"  said  Dr.  Harney  ;  "  Ha? 
hg  destroyed  the  address  when  I  dispatched  the  letter,  nor  is  £ 
of  consequence.  Other  things  have  covered  over,  in  my  mind, 
his  episode  in  an  eventful  career.  It  was  recalled  by  the  con- 
versation here  to-night.  By  to-morrow,  I  shall  have  packed  it 
away  again  in  its  hiding-place.  A  novel-writer  would  have 
intensified  more  ;  would  have  put  the  tale  into  a  better  form.  I 
have  told  it  in  my  way,  to  serve  my  purpose.  If  I  have  been 
prolix,  as  well  as  inartistic,  I  crave  your  indulgence." 

There  was  a  disclaiming  buzz,  eager  and  complimentary,  as 
he  said  this.  I  did  not  join  in  it.  I  had  fewer  words,  more 
thoughts  than  any  of  the  rest. 

A  sultry  July  twilight ;  the  great,  unseen  river  booming  with- 
out ;  a  darkening  room,  bestrewed  with  bridal  array  ;  a  crouch- 
ing figure,  crushed  by  memories  ;  mournful,  fitful  tones,  that 
repeated  the  very  story  to  which  we  had  just  now  listened  ;  ita 
finale — "  Deep  in  my  heart  there  is  a  grave — sealed  fast !  for  I 
trampled  down  the  earth  myself — beat  it  hard  !  No  grass 
grows  there  ;  no  tear  ever  wets  it  ;  no  sunbeam  ever  straya 
through  the  darkness  to  light  it ;  My  former  self  is  buried 
there  with  his  memory." — This  was  the  picture,  these  tin 
sounds  that  visited  me.  Where  was  now  that  grave  ?  Forgot 
ten,  with  the  thought  of  that  in  which  lay  the  mortal  remains 
of  her  early  love — the  martyr-hero  ! 

"  Can  it  be  ?"  I  said,  wonderingly. 

"  If  our  written  romances  could  win  our  readers  to  interest  at 
genuine  and  flattering  as  Miss  Leigh  has  showed  in  your  narra 
live,  we  should  ask  no  higher  meed  of  praise,"  was  Louise'g 
remark.  "  Truth,  nature  and  heart — these  are  better  than  all 
the  studied  graces  of  stage-effect,  doctor." 


320  M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  E  . 

She  left  us  with  this,  to  shine  upon  others  who  claimed  hospi 
table  notice  ;  still  radiant,  self-poised,  inimitable  ;  the  cynosure 
of  envious  and  admiring  regards. 

Mine  sought  out  May  as  a  relief  from  this  excess  of  brilliaucy. 
She  yet  wore  her  mourning-dress,  and  the  pensive  cast  of  hef 
features  did  not  date  back  to  the  period  of  our  early  intimacy  j 
but  upon  the  forehead  and  lips  was  enstamped  a  serenity  sorrow 
could  not  disturb,  nor  time  take  away. 

"  Peace  and  stoicism  ;  Religion  and  Philosophy — which  best 
befit  the  woman  ?"  said  ray  invisible  monitor ;  and  again  I 
wondered  whether  I  had  not  been  favored,  twice  in  the  same 
evening,  with  an  "inward  illumination;"  whether  my  spiritual 
intuitions  wore  i>ot  undergoing  the  "purification  which  should 
eventuate  in  their  infallibility." 

Louise  was  importuned  for  a  song — I  guessed  from  the  ges- 
tures and  countenances  of  several  who  pressed  about  her. 

"  Wbj  Joes  she  refuse  ?"  queried  the  dramatist  of  Mrs  Row- 
land. 

"  To  enhance  the  value  of  the  consent  which  will  come  iu  due 
reason,"  she  replied,  cynically.  "  Men  rush  most  anxiously  after 
denied  blessings." 

"  Mrs.  Wilson  seldom  sings  at  her  own  parties,"  said  May's 
gentle,  firm  tones.  "  I  hope  she  will  break  through  this  rule 
to-night,  however  ;  you  have  not  heard  her  " — to  me — "  for  seve- 
ral years — have  you  ?" 

"  No  ;"  I  said  ;  then  inwardly,  "  I  do  not  care  to,  now  1  I  sup- 
pose her  style  of  music  too  has  undergone  a  reformation,  and  I 
am  weary  of  alterations  for  the  worse." 

I  had  two  disappointments  ;  one,  at  seeing  her  approach  Ji« 
piai.o,  leaning  upon  the  arm  of  the  young  poet  ;  the  other  was 
delighted  astonishment,  when  like  a  breath  of  summer  wind,  the 
long  stirred  the  air,  and  silenced  every  other  voice.  I  could 
have  imagined  her  the  Louise  I  once  knew  and  loved,  so  like 


MOSS-SIDE. 


321 


irere  the  mtes  to  those  she  used  to  carol  frequently  and  freelj 
as  do  birds  in  Spring-time.  I  arched  my  hand  over  my  eyes,  and 
listened  tc  the  round,  liquid  tones  that  brought  me  the  IOT* 


"  There  is  a  fountain  in  the  dell, 

And  it  singeth  evermore, 
As  the  laughing  waters  leap  to  light, 

And  tinkling  crystals  pour. 
All  day,  to  catch  the  sun's  warm  kiss, 

The  eager  wavelets  swell  ; 
And  a  wild  and  joyous  thing  of  life 

Is  the  fountain  in  the  dell. 

But  when  its  god  has  looked  his  last, 

And  woods  grow  chill  and  dark  ; 
And  stars  upon  its  glassy  breast, 

Dart  but  a  fleeting  spark, 
There  conies  a  ceaseless,  wailing  sob 

From  out  the  heaving  well  ; 
And  song  and  dance  are  hushed  till  morm, 

In  the  fountain  in  the  dell. 

My  heart  is  like  that  gladsome  fount, 

When  thou,  beloved,  art  nigh  ; 
To  meet  thy  loving  eye  and  smile 

The  billow  riseth  high. 
The  circling  ripples  bound  in  glee 

Beneath  the  genial  ray  — 
And  cheerily!  0,  cheerily! 

Singeth  the  dashing  spray. 

And  like  it  too,  it  sadly  sinks 

When  its  day  of  joy  is  o'er  ; 
And  from  its  secret  depths,  a  sigh 

Struggles  for  evermore. 
All  through  the  long,  long  weary  night, 

It  maketh  plaintive  moan  ;  — 
For  life  and  beauty  leave  the  wave, 

When  Thou  and  Hope  have  gone." 

"  One  of  her  own  lyrics  I"  sneered  Mrs.  Rowland,  incantioaslj 

i  before,  for  May  was  now  out  of  hearing,  and  I  was  too  stapio 

14* 


822  MOSS-SIDE. 

or  too  insignificant  ti  be  regarded.      "  Is  that  in  good  taste  d: 
you  think,  Mr.  Armour  ?" 

The  play-writer  screwed  his  mouth  to  one  side,  and  perked  hi 
eye-brows,  without  speaking. 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Wilson  1"  Mrs.  Rowland  called,  as  the  song- 
stress neared  us  ;  "  I  cannot  thank  you  enough  for  the  soul-treat, 
the  spirit-banquet  you  have  deigned  to  grant  us.  I  did  not 
know  until  you  sang  it  that  the  exquisite  poem  I  have  so  enjoyed 
was  ever  wedded  to  music." 

"  Carsini  is  the  composer,"  replied  Louise.  "  The  verses  were 
a  juvenile  production,  whose  resurrection  was  accomplished  by  an 
accident.  They  found  their  way  into  print  without  any  conni- 
vance of  mine,  for  I  am  too  conscious  of  their  demerits.  I 
should  not  have  sung  them,  had  I  not  been  urged  to  it  by  my 
friends  here,  and  " — glancing  over  her  shoulder  to  ascertain  that 
the  individual  spoken  of  was  at  a  safe  distance,  and  bending  to- 
wards Mrs.  Rowland — "  Carsini  himself  is  present." 

"  I  believe  you  1"  I  wanted  to  retort.  "  I  am  only  ashamed 
of  myself  for  fancying  that  you  could  write  and  sing  thus  now 
from  choice." 

A  gentleman  entered  unannounced,  and  without  bustle,  when 
I  was  eying  May  interrogatively  for  the  signal  of  going.  Louise 
advanced  some  paces  and  saluted  him  with  more  show  of  cor- 
diality than  she  had  evidenced  at  the  appearance  of  the  mass  of 
her  visitors.  A  singular  fascination  drew  my  attention  continu- 
ally towards  them  as  they  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  ;  she, 
cpeaking  volubly,  and  with  much  animation  of  expression  and 
action  ;  he,  slightly  bent  to  listen,  dignified  and  calm,  responding 
where  verbal  response  was  needed  ;  but  she  consulted  his  eyei 
aost  frequently  when  she  paused  for  an  answer  His  height  ex 
eeeded  that  of  any  other  person  present,  and  this,  with  his  proud 
bearing,  aroused  a  pain  at  my  heart.  The  face  certainly  did  not 
bring  up  kindred  associations  ;  yet  I  was  troubled  by  a  familial 


MOSS-BIDE.  32f 

•ook  that  taxed  my  memory  to  refer  it  tc  its  former  possessor. 
Those  deeply-set  eyes  had  oiice  read  mine  as  they  were  now  read- 
ing Louise's;  those  teeth  had  parted,  in  the  same  dazzlingly-white 

ine,  the  moustache  from  the  crisp  beard  below.  Their  voices 
irere  drowned  in  the  prevailing  hum,  but  I  knew  that  his  was 

ubdued  in  pitch,  and  skillfully  managed  ;  melodious  in  persua- 
sive argument  ;  in  its  every  cadence  a  sneer,  when  the  subject 
admitted  of  sarcasm.  An  antique  seal-ring  upon  his  left  hand, 
unique  in  form,  I  recognized  as  readily  as  if  I  had  handled  it 
a  hundred  times  ;  and  when  he  twisted  it  reflectively,  in  the 
most  stirring  part  of  Louise's  address,  the  action  was  just  what  1 
was  waiting  to  see.  Where  had  I  known  him  ?  especially  where 
in  company  with  her  ?  They  had  talked  and  I  watched  them 
before  this — if  nowhere  else,  in  my  dreams. 

The  conference  was  over  for  the  present.  Louise  accepted  hia 
arm,  and  they  moved  through  the  apartments,  dispensing  words 
and  smiles  at  their  convenience,  to  the  various  groups  scattered 
here  and  there.  I  stared  on,  I  doubt  not,  like  an  untutored 
rustic,  until  Louise  detected  me  in  the  act.  A  momentary  and 
irrepressible  gleam  of  amusement  flitted  over  her  countenance. 
Heartily  vexed  with  myself  and  with  her,  I  steadied  the  offending 
orbs,  after  Mr.  Wilson's  manner,  upon  a  figure  of  the  carpet, 
and  pored  over  its  convolutions  with  a  closeness  of  application 
surpassing  his. 

"  Miss  Leigh,"  said  the  commanding  tones  of  the  mistress  of 
the  house,  "  allow  me  to  revive  your  recollection  of  a  travelling 
companion — Professor  Dumont." 

The  stranger  of  the  White  Hills  it  was,  who,  resigned  in  my 
faror  by  his  hostess,  expressed,  in  gentlemanly  terms,  his  pleasur 
»t  our  reunion. 

"  I  have  ever  retained  a  most  agreeable  remembrance  of  out 
accidental  acquaintanceship,"  he  said.  "  To  meet  again,  undei 
the  roof  of  one  of  them,  all  the  ladies  of  that  harmonious  travel- 
ling party,  is  a  surprise,  delightful  as  complete." 


824  M  O  8  S  -  8  I  D  E . 

"  There  have  been  many  changes  since  then,"  I  replied,  with- 
out thought,  or  I  would  not  have  seemed  to  solicit  his  sympath5 
In  what  was  melancholy  in  these  events. 

He  bowed  his  head  in  respect  to  the  dead  and  the  sorrowful 
fifing — a  motion  of  marked  grace. 

'I  have  learned,  to  my  regret,  how  deplorable  some  of  them 
re.  I  have,  once  or  twice  before  this  evening,  had  the  privilege 
of  paying  my  respects  to  your  sister,  Mrs.  Leigh.  As  Mrs.  Wil 
son  happily  remarked  awhile  ago,  you  are  also  sisters  in  a  con- 
spiracy to  cheat  Time  of  his  tribute-tax." 

"  We  have  paid  it,  I  believe,  sir — if  not  in  shrivelled  skins  and 
•ilvered  locks,  in  some  other  currency  equally  as  acceptable." 

"  The  world  is  no  wiser  for  your  integrity,"  he  was  pleased  to 
•*y.  "But  where  is  Mr.  Wynne ?  I  do  not  see  him  here." 

"  He  has  not  been  in  at  all,  I  think,"  said  I,  unfalteringly. 

"  Ah  1  yet  that  is  nothing  uncommon.  He  does  not  make  one 
cf  our  number  upon  these  '  literary  evenings '  so  regularly  as  his 
•ister's  wishes  and  ours  could  dictate.  While  deprecating  liv 
taste  in  this  respect" — there  spoke  the  old  polite  scorn  I — "  I  an. 
constrained  to  award  him,  in  everything  else,  my  hearty,  un* 
quivocal  esteem.  His  abilities  are  more  than  respectable,  and 
if  directed  to  worthier  objects  than  trade,  would  win  for  him 
reputation  of  a  higher  order  than  the  pittance  of  fame  that 
deludes  mediocrity  into  the  belief  of  its  own  stupendous  genius." 

His  glance,  sweeping  and  comprehensive,  was  not  flattering  to 
the  bevy  of  literati  within  its  scope. 

"  Mr.  Wynne  is  successful  in  the  line  of  life  he  has  chosen,  I 

hope,"  I  dared  to  say,  led  on  to  the  risk  of  exposing  the  inner 

hamber  of  my  soul,  by  my  desire  to  gather  some  tidings  of  one 

?ho  was  never  absent  from  thought,  who  had  not  been  named 

in  my  hearing  for  years. 

"  I  hear  nothing  that  contradicts  this  impression  which  1 
have  derived  from  the  never-ending  '  disappointments  on  account 
of  business'  that  frustrate  so  many  of  our  social  p^ns  ;  the 


M088-8IDE.  325 

clamor  and  hurry  of  his  establishment,  and  his  interest  in  ope- 
rations, sufficient  in  number  and  intricacy  to  throw  a  man  into  a 
brain  fever.  Yet  this  money-making  would  not  be  so  odious  in 
Americans,  were  it  not  pursued  without  intermission  from  the 
ei  adle  to  the  grave  ;  from  the  introductory  marble  '  swap '  to  the 
lexagenarian's  investment  of  the  half-million  in  stocks.  Your 
people  know  how  to  amass.  They  do  it  cleverly,  and  spend — 
excuse  me  fer  saying  it — awkwardly.  The  science  of  Leisure  ia 
the  only  one  of  which  they  have  not,  at  least,  a  smattering. 
When  they  do  pretend  to  recreate,  it  is  play  with  one  hand, 
work  with  the  other  ;  spending  here  and  scraping  in  there  ;  the 
right  eye  softened  with  enjoyment  of  the  beautiful  in  Nature  or 
Art  ;  the  left  wide-awake  for  a  keen  bargain,  a  lucky  specula- 
tion." 

"  This  description  does  not  correspond  with  my  idea  of  Mr 
Wynne's  character,"  observed  I. 

"  Nor  was  it  intended  as  a  personal  portraiture,"  he  answered. 
"  As  such,  it  should  rather  stand  for  Mr.  Wynne  the  elder  than 
for  the  son,  who  has  trodden  the  dusty  highway  but  a  little 
while.  Mr.  Wilson,  our  host,  is,  in  jockey-phrase,  thoroughly 
broken  in  harness.  In  the  natural  course  of  events,  his  more 
spirited  brother-in-law  will  be  as  tractable — as  tame." 

I  was  uncomfortable,  hot  and  uneasy,  yet  not  daring  to 
defend  the  absent  from  the  charge  of  this  woeful  depreciation. 

The  next  question  did  not  cool  my  flushing  cheeks. 

"  You  have  seen  Mr.  Wynne  since  your  arrival  in  the  city — 
fcive  you  not  ?" 

He  was  turning  his  ring,  and  not  looking  at  me  ;  why  then 
By  awkwardness  in  forming  and  articulating  the  reply  ? 

"  No  sir — he  has  not — I  have  not  had  that  pleasure." 

"  Business  again,  doubtless  !  A  finer  form  does  uot  walk 
Broadway.  He  is  a  Herculean  Apollo.  Mammas  cry,  '  Ah  I 
what  a  catch  !'  and  daughters  echo  '  Ah  I'  from  their 


326  MO88-SIDK. 

very  hearts  ,  and  he,  unhappy  youth  1  is  voted  'heartless,'— « 
'  magnificent  statue,'  because  it  pleases  him  to  remain  fancy-free. 
He  is  waiting  for  an  angel  and  a  fortune  ?" 

I  could  hear  no  more  of  this. 

"  Have  you  been  a  resident  of  New  York  long,  Mr.  Dumont  '(* 
I  inquired,  changing  the  topic,  disposed  as  he  was,  for  some 
reason,  to  expatiate  upon  it. 

"  I  am  a  cosmopolite,"  rejoined  he.  "  '  Every  land  is  my  home.' 
My  sojourn  in  this  place  will  not  extend  over  this  month.  1 
have  been  here  since  the  middle  of  April.  Having  no  local 
attaqhments,  when  one  set  of  faces  grows  to  my  sight  like  a 
twice-told  tale,  I  migrate.  Other  whims  move  me  sometimes. 
This  year,  I  am  following  the  footprints  of  Spring,  the  vernal 
breezes  and  the  snowdrops.  When  I  lose  the  coy  nymph  in 
an  Arctic  iceberg,  I  shall  set  forth  upon  some  different  chase. 
One  soon  comes  to  the  stale  dregs  of  the  flask  unless  he  makes 
rariety  his  motto  in  the  choice  of  vintage." 

I  was  more  alert  than  civil  to  him  in  my  obedience  to  May's 
sign  of  departure.  I  hurried  her  until  we  were  in  the  carriage 
and  the  illuminated  windows  behind  us  ;  then  leaned  back  in 
the  darkness  and  wept  unheard. 

Herbert  had  always  been  my  superior.  I  could  not  have 
loved  him  else  ;  but  it  was  not  with  a  superiority  to  elicit 
encomiums  from  this  callous  worldling,  in  whose  estimation  feel- 
ing was  a  weakness,  Religion  a  nursery  fable.  Sorely  did  I 
lament  the  impulse  that  had  betrayed  me  into  the  indiscretion 
of  speaking  with  him  of  one,  never  mentioned  in  my  most  confi- 
dential talks  with  May,  my  soul-sister.  I  was  punished  as  I 
deserved  to  be — more  severely,  perhaps.  I  was  accustomed  to 
regard  the  separating  chasm  between  us  as  impassable  ;  never 
to  be  bridged  ;  but,  until  this,  it  had  been  the  work  of  my  own 
hands  ;  it  was  I  who  repelled,  not  he  who  receded.  To  some 
ttie  distinction  may  seem  strained  ;  no  woman,  however  disin 


MOSS-SIDE.  337 

8ere«sted  ID  her  desire  for  a  lover's  happiness,  will  fail  to  appreci- 
ate it.  This  statuesque  Apollo,  smiling  disdain  upon  Cupid's 
manoeuvres,  wts  as  unlike  the  image  enshrined  in  my  heart,  as 
was  the  driving  man  of  business,  the  commercial  machine  or  the 
ffary  fortune-hunter.  My  oft-repeated  asseverations  of  disbelief, 
the  more  vehement  as  my  sinking  heart  declined  to  receive  theii 
comfort — failed  to  disperse  the  mists  that  accumulated  about 
the  cherished  shrine.  Years  of  absence  had  spared  it,  untar- 
nished ;  a  breath  from  lips  I  knew  to  be  false  in  most  things, 
had  sullied  its  glory.  Unjust,  most  unkind  I  felt  this  to  be,  but 
I  could  not  present  it. 

My  eyes  were  heavy,  ray  motions  inelastic  as  I  set  about  the 
labor  of  disarraying  myself  of  my  dinner-dress,  while  May  chatted 
on,  unheeding  my  discouraging  replies. 

"  And  Mr.  Dumont  vouchsafed  an  entertainment  of  half  an 
hour  in  length,  to  one  auditor  !"  she  said.  "  You  must  have 
made  an  impression.  Did  you  know  him  before  Louise  intro- 
duced him  ?" 

"No." 

"  He  is  the  lion  of  'this  season — upon  exhibition  '  for  a  few 
days  only,' "  she  continued.  "  You  may  recollect  my  ancient 
prejudice  against  him  ?  If  he  ever  divined  it,  he  bears  no 
malice.  He  is  invariably  polite  and  conversational  when  we 
meet." 

"  Louise  presented  him  as  Professor  Dumont,"  I  forced  myseli 
to  say.  "  Of  what  is  he  Professor,  and  where  ?" 

"  He  has  occupied  somo  place  in  a  French  University,  I  under- 
stand— I  do  not  know  what  chair.  His  stylish  appearance, 
courtly  manners  and  versatile  talents  have  obtained  much  favor 
for  him  in  Louise's  set." 

"  I  do  not  like  him  I"  returned  I,  snapping  my  slipper -string, 
as  I  tried  to  untie  a  knot. 

"  Nor  I,  if  I  must  be  truthful,"  said  May      "  There  is  nothing 


328  MOSS-SIDE, 

real  about  him,  to  my  eye  As  to  his  age,  nobody  hazards  a 
definite  opinion.  He  wears  a  toupe'e  scientifically  adjusted,  yet 
an  acute  observer  can  detect  it ;  his  whiskers  are  dyed,  brown 
as  they  are,  for  they  were  nearer  auburn  when  we  travelled  with 
him,  and  his  teeth  may  be  his  own,  either  by  right  of  purchase 
or  as  the  lawful  gift  of  Mother  Nature  " 

I  smiled  sadly.     This  dislike  I  traced  back  to  the  impressions 

ansferred  from  Frederic's  mind   to   hers  ;   saw  that  she  had 

never  parted  with   the   aversion   he   had   professed,  from  the 

moment  of  our  encounter  by  the  way-side,  with  the  so-called 

Frenchman. 

"  He  may  be  thirty,  forty,  fifty — some  guess  that  he  is  sixty 
years  old,"  she  went  on.  "  Alfred,  who  has  been  in  company 
with  him  occasionally,  protests  that  he  is  the  Wandering  Jew." 

A  handsome  bouquet  was  handed  in  at  the  door  the  following 
morning. 

"  For  whom  ?"  asked  May,  as  the  servant  brought  it  into  the 
breakfast-room. 

"  Miss  Leigh,"  was  the  reply. 

"  The  token  of  some  conquest,  made  last  evening  !"  she  cried, 
clapping  her  hands.  "  Look  for  the  card." 

There  was  none,  although  we  searched  carefully.  The  foot- 
man did  not  know  the  person  who  gave  him  the  flowers,  nor  did 
any  surmise  as  to  their  donorship  meet  with  acceptance.  Alfred 
Seaton,  upon  whom  my  suspicions  rested,  denied  the  act  or  any 
complicity  therein.  Other  gentlemen  were  named — May  even 
bringing  up  Mr.  Dumont  ;  but  their  claims  were  voted  doubtful ; 
•ml  the  beautiful  offering  continued  to  be  the  theme  of  many 
a  jest  and  conjecture.  These  were  redoubled  by  the  arrival  of 
another  the  next  day,  and  still  a  third  with  a  succeeding,  until 
they  became,  as  May  said,  "  a  daily  institution." 

Gradually  I  became  thoughtful  at  their  coming.  Wuo  wai 
the  friend  who  thus  continually  remembered  that  I  was  an  exili 


it',  ss-siJE.  329 

from  the  bowers  of  Moss-side  ?  Why  did  he  shun  my  sight  and 
thauks  ?  Who  had  a  motive  for  concealment  beyond  a  puerile 
desire  to  mystify  us  ;  a  ridiculous  fonduess  for  the  anonymous  ? 
I  studied  every  flower  for  an  answer  to  these  questions.  Refined 
taste  I  read  in  their  selection  and  grouping  ;  liberality  in  the 
fariety  of  choice  and  scarce  plants.  Were  tender  thoughts  com- 
mitted to  the  speaking  of  their  fragrant  sighs  ? 

"  This  is  folly,"  I  said,  resolutely,  one  evening,  awaking  from  a 
reverie  over  the  freshest  and  most  lovely  of  all.  By  seeming  ac- 
cident, I  had  left  it  in  my  chamber,  instead  of  upon  the  parlor- 
table.  In  truth,  it  was  for  minute  inspection,  that  I  might 
dream  over  it  at  will.  And  what  dreams  were  shaped  by  its 
odorous  incense  !  Time,  care,  duty  did  not  mar  delight  as  intox- 
icating as  I  was  wont  to  revel  in  when  Life  was  new. 

My  aunt's  voice,  in  conversation  with  May  in  the  entry,  awoke 
me  with  a  shock. 

"  You  forget,"  I  pursued,  hastily  rising  and  pushing  away  the 
vase,  "  that  chasing  bubbles  is  children's  sport.  You  caught 
yours,  and  found  out  their  nothingness  too  long  ago.  You 
should  have  learned  other  lessons  by  this  time.  Who  was  the 
main  figure  in  your  silly  musing  ?  Confess  it  to  yourself.  Can 
anything  in  imagination  be  more  preposterous  than  the  supposi- 
tion that  he  has  chosen  this  method  of  re-establishing  a  corres- 
pondence he  promised  never  to  renew — a  promise  he  has  kept 
now  for  five  years — which  you  have  every  reason  to  believe 
he  will  never  be  disposed  to  violate?  I  am  disappointed 
in  you,  Grace  Leigh  1  I  hoped  you  were  a  strong  hearted, 
right-headed  woman.  You  are  proving  yourself  a  sentimei  tal 
girl.  Carry  these  flowers  down  to  the  parlor  ;  put  them  in  a 
conspicuous  stand,  where  you  cannot  avoid  seeing  them  all  the 
evening,  and  let  them  preach  to  you  of  your  frail  heart — your 
unstable  resolutions." 

I  did  so  ;  setting  them  where  the   blaze  of  the  ^handelie* 


630  MOSS-SIDE. 

revealea  the  very  veins  in  the  leaves,  invaded  the  privacy  of 
every  perfumed  heart.  And  having  some  fancy-work  to  emploj 
my  fingers,  I  sat  at  the  same  table,  and  stayed  my  needle,  notf 
and  then, to  pluck  a  petal  or  pinch  one  into  fragrance — not  ca- 
ressingly, but  as  I  would  have  toyed  with  clover  blossoms  at  home. 

Louise  surprised  us  by  another  call,  and  in  her  train,  meekly 
walked  her  husband.  I  did  not  lay  aside  my  sewing.  I  braved 
the  scornful  pity  of  those  haughty  eyes  ;  made  myself  liable  to 
the  touch  of  a  lash  that  never  inflicted  more  than  what 
appeared  a  touch,  but  which,  like  the  knout,  seldom  failed  to 
divide  nerve,  sinew,  and  flesh  at  one  smarting  cut.  I  was  proof 
against  it  to-night.  I  smiled  to  myself  as  I  thought  how  hum 
drum  my  tastes,  how  aimless  my  existence  must  seem  to  her.  1 
accepted  her  condescension  ;  looked  up  to  her,  for  all  she  knew 
to  the  contrary,  as  the  glow-worm  does  to  the  star — unenvying, 
unambitious,  supremely  content  with  the  glimmering  spark  that 
shows  him  only  the  clod  he  rests  upon.  She  was  a  distinguished 
woman  who  had  a  "  mission,"  and  was  fulfilling  it  in  the  sight 
of  men  ;  I  an  humble  country-girl,  without  beauty  or  fortune  ; 
settling  down  into  the  estate  of  matronly  maidenhood  ;  inca- 
pable of  comprehending  the  principles  of  which  she  was  the 
expositor. 

As  before,  her  stay  was  brief — this  time  because  she  "  had 
letters  to  write." 

"I  have  been  made  very  happy  to-day,"  she  said,  "by  the 
receipt  of  several  communications  which  testify  that  I  have  not 
labored  quite  in  vain.  Of  course,  representing,  as  I  do,  dec* 
trines,  instead  of  seeking  merely  to  amuse  the  Public,  I  hav 
drawn  down  upon  me  a  storm  of  abuse  from  the  lordly  sex 
and  must  submit  resignedly  to  the  fate  and  title  of  '  strong 
minded  woman.'  I  only  hope  they  will  inscribe  it  upon  my 
tomb-stone.  Posterity  will  call  that  an  honor  which  was  meant 
as  obloquy.  But  from  the  oppressed,  the  lowly  slaves,  to  whom 


MOSS-SIDE.  331 

I  have  dared  to  preach  freedom  ;  from  soula  made  earnest 
through  suffering,  I  have  had  blessing  and  encouragement  which 
would  strengthen  me  to  endure  tenfold  more  opprobrium.  I 
work  the  more  diligently  for  the  abuse  ;  the  more  heartily  when 
[  hear  in  every  throb  of  my  own  bosom,  the  indignant  cry  of 
thousands  of  my  sisters  against  tyranny." 

She  would  have  looked  grandly  upon  the  rostrum  at  that 
nornent ;  her  eyes  lustrous  ;  the  crimson  blood  centring  in  her 
cheeks ;  her  bust  swelling  with  the  emotion  she  described.  She 
had  arisen  to  go,  and  stood  by  chance,  near  the  middle  of  the 
apartment  ;  "  a  striking  picture,"  and  "  an  able  actress  !"  said 
Alfred  Seaton's  gaze.  Youth  as  he  was,  the  majesty  of  emanci- 
pated womanhood  failed  to  awaken  any  more  exalted  sentiment. 
The  other  "  tyrants  "  in  our  number  were  hardly  more  moved  by 
this  seditious  outbreak.  My  father  surveyed  her  kindly,  rather 
sorrowfully,  for  he  reverenced  the  old-fashioned  type  of  feminine 
perfection  ;  but  he  was  not  abashed  by  her  contempt  or  intimi- 
dated by  her  lawless  language.  Mr.  Wilson  was  picking  up  his 
hat  and  stretching  his  limbs — weighing  anchor,  that  he  might  be 
ready  to  follow  his  consort  the  instant  she  set  sail.  There 
was  a  dead  pause  of  some  seconds  when  Louise  stopped  speak- 
ing, no  one  being  prepared  with  a  suitable  reply,  and  to  prevent 
embarrassment,  May  accosted  the  quiet  husband  : 

"  Mr.  Wilson  1  you  love  and  cultivate  flowers.  Can  you  tell 
us  the  name  of  this  ?"  singling  out  an  unknown  beauty  in  my 
bouquet. 

He  hung  back,  as  if  afraid  of  the  vivid  circle  of  light  wiftim 
which  she  was  standing. 

"  I  cannot — I  suppose  not — I  do  not  think  n — he  commec.  fed 
»ud  a  confused  muttering  finished  the  answer. 

"  Sc«  it !"  May  said  to  Louise. 

The  prophetess  vouchsafed  a  look.  "  This  should  nave  beea 
gathered  from  ray  conservatory,"  she  replied.  "  It  is  a  new 


382  MOSS-SIDE. 

variety  of  the "  some  unpronounceable  name  I  had  nevei 

heard  before — "  which  I  have  not  yet  seen  anywhere  else.  I  ait 
confident  it  is  not  to  be  found  in  the  public  gardens.  Mine  was 
imported  by  private  hand  from  the  West  Indies.  Still,"  she 
added,  laughing,  "  I  do  not  presume  to  identify  it,  since  I  am 
ignorant  how  it  came  to  be  here." 

May  would  have  told  the  story,  but  her  teasing  glance  towards 
me  crossed  one  from  her  brother,  that  admonished  her  to  be  dis 
creet. 

"  I  am  the^  present  proprietor  of  the  suspected  article,"  I  said 
"  For  its  antecedents  I  do  not  pretend  to  be  responsible.  1 
know  no  more  of  them  than  you  do.  The  nine  points  of  posses- 
sion are  all  for  which  I  have  any  care." 

Louise  examined  the  spray  slightingly,  as  if  tired  of  the  paltry 
discussion.  "  The  tenth  point  can,  I  imagine,  be  establish*  d  hy 
Mr.  Wilson." 

He  was  fidgeting  by  inches  towards  the  door,  in  perturbation 
obvious  to  any  one  who  chanced  to  look  that  way.  Av  this 
direct  reference  to  himself,  he  let  fall  both  hat  and  cane,  and 
stooping  to  reach  them,  struck  his  head  a  sonorous  blow  against 
the  wall.  A  very  red  face,  and  one  grievously  discomposed  by  pain 
or  shame,  he  presented  to  us  upon  the  recovery  of  his  perpendi- 
cular. 

His  wife  smiled,  as  did  the  rest  of  us,  but  with  less  commisera- 
tion than  was  exhibited  in  our  countenances. 

"  I  was  saying,"  she  resumed,  still  carelessly,  "  that  I  have 
seen  this  plant  nowhere  except  in  my  greenhouse  ;  and  since 
Miss  Leigh  is  in  the  dark  as  to  its  history  before  it  became  her 
property,  I  relieved  her  curiosity  by  saying  that  you,  probably, 
#ere  directly  or  indirectly  the  donor,  especially  as  I  noticed  yon 
busily  engaged  arranging  a  bouquet  this  moruing." 

No  answer  rendered  the  discomfited  culprit  arraigned  and 
convicted  in  this  sentence. 


M  O  S  8  -  8  I  D  K  833 

I  pitied  him  "  I  am  truly  grateful  to  you  for  your  thought- 
ful kindness,  Mr.  Wilson,"  I  hastened  to  say,  "  and  particularly 
request  that  if  yours  was  not  the  direct  agency  in  bringing  me 
so  much  pleasure,  you  will  not  undeceive  me.  I  prefer  thanking 
fou.  Your  playful  ruse  in  sending  the  flowers  as  you  did,  has 
afforded  us  considerable  amusement." 

"  It  was  nicely  managed,"  May  followed  me.  "  We  are  al] 
reach  obliged  to  you." 

"  I  should  be,  certainly,"  said  Louise,  "  for  reminding  me  of 
my  neglect  in  not  having  invited  you  to  explore  thejionservatory, 
and  gather  whatever  you  wish.  My  gardener  brought  the  best 
recommendations,  and  judging  from  what  I  see  of  his  manage- 
ment, was  not  over-praised.  It  is  enough  for  me  to  luxuriate  at 
the  banquet  of  beauty  and  fragrance  that  ever  awaits  me  there. 
[  rerily  believe  my  floral  pets  know  me,  and  love  my  visits, 
I  draw  much  of  solace  and  joy  from  them." 

"  You  never  handle  the  watering-pot  or  the  trowel — do  you  1" 
nquired  Alfred. 

"  Not  1 1  I  would  not  degrade  my  thoughts  of  the  holy  min- 
isters by  associating  them  with  drudgery.  To  me,  they  are  the 
spontaneous  efflorescence  of  the  soil ;  emblems  of  the  triumph  of 
the  Beautiful  over  the  merely  Useful.  I  leave  the  tilling,  and 
watering,  and  pruning  to  Maclean  and  Mr.  Wilson,  who  is  an 
amateur  in  the  pursuit." 

This  classification  did  not  offend  the  second  person  included  in 
it.  With  his  customary  low-spirited  bow  all  around,  he  tacked 
and  fell  into  the  wake  of  the  full-rigged  frigate  sweeping 
majestically  ahead  of  him,  typifying  the  "  victory  of  the  Beauti 
ful  over  the  merely  Useful"  more  distinctly  to  the  optics,  physi- 
tal  and  mental,  of  the  observers,  than  her  "  holy  ministers"  could 
ever  succeed  in  doing. 

And  my  dreams  about  my  gift  were  th»  thinnest  air — not  ever 
BO  substantial  as  bubbles  I  Right  thankful  was  I  that  Damp  Rea- 


334  MOPS-SIDE. 

son's  lecture  had  disabused  '  iy  mind  of  romantic  vagaries  before 
the  mystery  was  unravelled.  I  said  with  sincerity  that  I  was 
glad  to  know  Mr.  Wilson  as  the  author  of  the  benefit.  I  was 
touched  by  this  mark  of  his  friendship  ;  saw  in  it  the  budding  of 
feelings  which,  under  different  auspices,  might  have  flowered  into 
actions  worthy  of  the  nature  God  had  bestowed — which  the  ad 
erse  influences  of  his  home  had  bruised  and  blighted. 

I  was  in  a  mood  that  night  to  write  an  appendix  to  Louise's 
book,  and  this  would  h»^e  been  its  import — "Women  !  Sisters  I 
in  piling  the  blazing  beacons  that  signal  your  resistance  to  thraU- 
dom  old  as  the  earth  and  time — take  heed  lest  you  trample  out 
the  fires  upon  your  own  hearth-stones  ;  in  the  contest  for  the 
laurel  of  Victory,  have  mercy  upon  the  humble  flowers  springing 
up  close  to  your  doors  ;  before  you  take  your  lives  and  reputa- 
tions in  your  hands  and  go  forth  to  battle  for  the  world's  regfr 
Deration,  hear  one  word  of  appeal  in  behalf  of'  '  Domestic  Mis- 
sions 1' " 


M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  E  .  33C 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

1  WAS  writing  to  Lilly,  and  very  happy  in  my  intettness  upon 
By  task,  when  May  entered  our  chamber,  somewhat  out  of  breath 
with  climbing  the  stairs. 

'*  Ah  1  you  are  busy — agreeably  busy  1"  she  said. 

"  Do  you  want  me  1"  asked  I.  . 

"  No  ;  quite  the  reverse,  just  now.  There  is  company  down 
gtairs.  I  have  a  call  that  may  detain  me  some 'time,  and  to  be- 
guile your  solitude  of  weariness,  I  have  brought  up  a  book  for 
y  ou  to  read.  You  are  employed,  however — and  if  Lilly  is  your 
correspondent — entirely  to  your  satisfaction.  I  will  leave  the 
volume  here  for  future  need." 

I  thanked  her,  and  assured  her  of  my  comfort ;  but  she  tarried 
until  I  raised  my  eyes  from  the  paper  to  see  why  she  had  not 
joined  her  waiting  visitors.  She  was  contemplating  me,  from  the 
other  side  of  the  table,  with  a  peculiar  expression  of  saddened 
tenderness. 

"  Why,  dear  May  1  what  is  the  matter  ?"  inquired  I,  appre- 
hensively 

"  Matter  1  nothing  I  only  I  love  you,  Grace  I"  She  came 
around  to  me  and  took  my  head,  after  her  own  sweet  way,  in  her 
arms.  "  Best,  dearest  of  sisters  1"  she  said  ;  then  releasing  me, 
she  laughed.  "  It  was  one  of  my  spasms  of  fondness,  Gracie 
They  come  over  me  in  sudden  waves,  when  you  are  unusually 
lovable.  Now,  I  will  go.  Shall  I  find  you  here  when  I  am  at 
leisure  ?" 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  and  I  was  alone. 


336  MOSS-SIDE. 

It  was  not  hard  to  account  for  the  rise  of  this  "  wave."  In 
my  happiest  humors  I  was  said  to  be  like  the  portrait  above  hex 
chair.  A  flash,  a  smile  upon  my  features  ofttimes  brought  the 
tr.oisture  to  the  eyes  of  Frederic's  father  and  wife.  This  day  I 
was  almost  gladsome.  The  sunny  side  of  Life  was  displayed  to 

aa.  My  aunt  was  improving  under  Dr. 's  practice  ;  my  fa- 

tiwr  s  health  was  robust,  and  his  spirits  excellent ;  our  friends 
were  the  personification  of  kindness  ;  my  intercourse  with  Mav 
was  balm  and  wine  to  my  soul  ;  and  I  was  communing  with  my 
best-loved,  my  child.  A  late  letter  from  her,  replete  with  affec- 
tion, was  open  upon  my  desk.  And  this  was  a  part  of  my 
reply  :— 

"  Your  love  is  unspeakably  precious  to  me,  darling,  far  more 
dear  than  your  modesty  has  ever  allowed  you  to  dream.  If  I 
were  required  now  to  designate  the  greatest  of  the  countless 
temporal  blessings  which  the  Father  has  streamed  into  my  cup,  I 
should  unhesitatingly  name  you,  my  '  Christmas  gift.'  That  was 
a  pretty  conceit  of  our  fathers' — was  it  not  ?  Yet  neither  of 
them  set  a  just  valuation  upon  the  treasure  they  were  conferring 
upon  me.  Those  were  my  days  of  shadow,  Lilly  !  shadows, 
whose  depth  appalls  me  in  the  retrospect.  I  prayed  then,  as  I 
grew  to  love  you,  that  the  like  might  never  rest  upon  you.  I 
thank  Heaven  that  this  is  impossible,  for  the  inward  light — your 
inalienable  right  as  a  child  of  God — will  prevent  their  closing  in 
about  your  soul.  This  safeguard  was  not  mine  in  those  times.  I 
shall  never  forget  what  pointed  significance  there  was  to  me  in 
your  innocent  explanation  of  the  print,  '  Pharaoh's  Overthrow  ; 
when  unsuspected  by  either  of  you,  I  listened  to  your  prattle 
with  Peyton  Elliott, — '  And  the  Egyptians  could  not  see  through 
the  cloud,  for  it  was  a  cloud  to  them.' 

"  In  two  weeks,  at  most,  the  doctor  will  liberate  Aunt  Agnes, 
with  instructions  how  to  continue  the  blessed  work  we  dare  to 
believe  he  has  begun.  Spare  yourself  the  uneasiness  you  tell  me 


M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  E  .  337 

yon  experience  in  the  fear  lest  I  am  more  closely  confined  than 
1  was  at  home,  with  you  to  relieve  guard.  May  contends  with 
me  for  the  honor  of  playing  tire-woman  and  nurse  to  th1  reia 
tive,  whose  patience  and  virtues  endear  her  to  us.  I  pa*  much 
time  in  the  outer  air,  quite  as  much  as  is  comfortable  it  this 
season.  Not  a  day  elapses  without  some  sight-seeing  excursion, 
and  I  go  frequently  into  company  by  May's  desire.  She  has  a 
circle  of  congenial  acquaintances,  who  show  us  many  and  accept- 
able attentions.  Your  staid  Auntie  is  in  danger  of  becoming 
dissipated  at  her  advanced  age." 

Sunlight,  lucent  amber  as  that  then  dancing  over  the  peaked 
gables  of  Moss-side,  slanted  upon  the  page  as  I  concluded  the 
epistle.  I  sang  snatches  of  popular  lays,  while  folding  and  seal- 
ing it ;  and  then,  so  at-home  was  I  about  the  premises,  I  des- 
cended to  the  kitchen  to  seek  a  post-boy  for  the  document  I  was 
anxious  should  go  by  the  earliest  mail.  The  obliging  footman 
was  "  intirely  "  at  my  service  ;  and  I  bounded  up  the  narrow 
private  staircase,  forgetful  of  May's  guests  ;  without  a  thought 
indeed  or  where  I  was,  or  what  I  did,  for  I  was  caroling, 

"  Be  it  ever  so  humble,  there's  no  place  like  home." 

Had  not  my  mind  been  in  advance  of  the  letter,  en  route  for  that 
Southern  Cottage,  I  would  not  have  sung  that  air  of  all  others 
in  the  universe.  I  never  did  it  wittingly — the  reader  knows 
why. 

From  the  upper  landing,  I  passed  into  the  entry  leading  to  the 
Btiug  breakfast-room,  where  I  had  never  known  May  to  receiv 
her  friends.  Yet,  as  I  came  along  the  passage,  some  one  step 
pcd  back  into  the  door  of  this  apartment,  and  shut  himself  in. 
A  gentleman  it  was,  for  he  did  not  move  so  briskly  that  I  could 
not  see  his  arm  and  the  hand  that  held  a  hat.  I  was  strciken 
dumb,  and  lost  no  time  in  leaving  to  him  the  clear  course  he 
15 


338  M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  E  . 

soveted, — "  for  my  iake,  most  likely,"  I  reflected,  when  I  w«i 
safe  in  my  chamber. 

"  What  a  figure  I  must  have  made  !"  I  said,  laughing,  not- 
withstanding my  annoyance  ;  "  tramping  from  the  top  to  the 
bottom  of  the  house,  like  a  rude  school-boy,  and  practising  vocal 
exercises  with  all  the  strength  of  my  never-weak  lungs  1  I  will 
apologize  to  May  when  she  has  dismissed  her  terrified  cavalier." 

But  she  was  in  a  hurry,  and  I  did  not  detain  her  to  hear  my 
excuses 

"  I  have  tc  go  out  on  the  street  for  awhile,  Gracie,"  she 
stated,  looking  troubled  as  I  fancied.  "  I  do  not  like  to  leave 
you,  but  mamma  will  be  happy  to  have  you  sit  with  her.  I 
ought " 

"  To  run  away  forthwith,"  I  interposed,  "  and  take  shame  to 
yourself  for  insulting  me  by  an  apology,  as  if  I  were  a  stranger 
within  your  gates,  and  a  stickler  for  ceremony.  No  more  words  ! 
Be  off  !  and  a  lively  jaunt  to  you  1" 

"  That  it  cannot  be  I"  she  rejoined,  smiling,  while  the  tears 
seemed  ready  to  flow.  Checking  herself,  she  kissed  me  twice, 
and  saying  anew,  "  I  love  you,  Gracie  !"  ran  out  of  the  room. 

"  I  hope  nothing  disagreeable  has  happened,"  I  thought.  "It 
is  some  household  errand,  I  suppose." 

Composing  my  ease-loving  limbs  upon  the  sofa,  I  chose  tLe 
book  May  had  left  me,  as  a  substitute  for  Mrs.  Seaton's  soci- 
ety. I  had  passed  the  paper-cutter  but  thrice  through  the 
leaves,  when  a  card  was  sent  up  for  "Miss  Leigh " — " Mrs.  Wil- 
liam Wynne." 

Shaking  fingers  added  the  needful  finish  to  my  morning  to* 
ette  ;  failing  feet  carried  me  into  the  august  presence. 

"  My  dear  Grace  !  I  am  overjoyed  to  greet  you  I" 

A  fashionable  embrace  permitted  me  to  touch  the  silken  and 
lace  outworks  of  her  bodice  ;  the  blonde  trirnming-s  on  the  ia- 
«ide  of  her  hat  kissed  my  brow  as  lightly  as  her  lips  did  uiint 


M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  E  .  33S 

Before  1  gained  a  seat,  the  see-saw,  of  which  I  retained  a  vivid 
recollection,  was  in  motion.  I  "  was  looking  charmingly,"  etc., 
etc.,  etc. 

"  But  my  dear  girl,  you  have  wounded  me  inexpressibly  b/ 
D  >t  i  forming  me  that  yon  were  in  town.  I  am  actually  afraid 
*o  ask  when  you  arrived." 

As  she,  nevertheless,  took  breath,  evidently  to  give  me  room 
for  a  response,  I  put  a  period  to  her  affectionate  suspense  by  say- 
ing, "  We  have  been  here  nearly  three  weeks." 

The  lavender  gloves  approached  each  other,  crushing  to  invisi- 
bility, the  cobweb  mockery  of  a  handkerchief. 

"  Naughty,  cruel  creature  !  how  can  I  forgive  you  ?  If  1 
were  less  attached  to  you,  I  would  take  my  leave  without  an- 
other word.  Where  have  you  been  ?  what  have  you  been  doing, 
that  I  have  not  heard  of  you  ?" 

I  told  her  of  my  aunt's  sickness  ;  that  it  had  drawn  us  to  the 
city,  and  been  my  principal  care  during  our  stay. 

"  Then,  too,  Mrs.  Wynne,  I  could  not  know  that  you  were 
ignorant  of  my  visit.  Having  seen  Louise  repeatedly,  it  waa 
natural  to  suppose  that  she  might  have  communicated  the  fact, 
unimportant  as  it  was,  to  you." 

"  Poor,  dear  Louise  1"  sighed  the  mother.  "  Her  engagements 
really  overwhelm  her.  But  for  her  genius  and  her  zeal,  she 
would  sink  under  the  burden.  You  must  pardon  the  oversight, 
my  dear.  She  has  such  a  number  of  weighty  concerns  upon  her 
mind  that  we  ought  to  be  lenient  if  she  is  guilty  of  neglecting 
svl'dt  are  momentous  affairs  to  other  ladies." 

At  sight,  she  gauged  me  by  her  daughter's  measure  ;  made  of 
ae  a  harmless,  nothiug-in-particular  puppet  ;  and  the  percep- 
tion of  this  nettled  me  more  than  Louise's  condescension.  In 
flic  Broodingnagian  world  of  Reform  and  Progress,  I  was  content 
to  be  Lilliputian  ;  to  be  sheltered  by  my  nothingness  ;  but  to 
my  mind,  Mrs.  Wynne's  superiority  of  years  and  wealth  hardl* 
sntitled  her  to  assume  this  tone. 


540  M088-8IDE. 

Ignorant  of  this  mounting  independence,  she  proceeded, 
"  Have  you  been  to  her  house  ?" 

"  Yes,  madam — once." 

"  Is  she  not  delightfully  situated  ?" 

"  She  appears  very  happy,  and  lacks  for  nothing  that  wealtb 
ran  procure,"  I  said,  guardedly. 

"  She  has  secured  a  most  fortunate  settlement,"  was  the  tune 
to  which  she  swung  me.  "  I  bring  her  forward  as  a  model  to 
her  younger  sisters,  ar  shining  example  of  the  advantages  of  a 
rational  union,  opposed  to  the  objections  that  attend  mis-called 
ove-matches.  She  has  the  best  of  husbands — one  who  never 
contradicts  her  ;  never  interferes  with  her  designs.  Mr.  Wilson 
is  an  eminently  sensible  man.  I  was  conscious  of  this  when  I 
consented  to  the  marriage  ;  but  he  has  surpassed  my  expecta- 
tions. He  is  willing  to  leave  to  her  judgment  all  that  pertains 
to  the  household  establishment,  taking  as  his  share  of  obligation 
the  work  of  providing  means  for  the  accomplishment  of  her 
wishes.  He  reaps  his  reward  in  seeing  her  surrounded  by  lux- 
uries, and  enjoying  herself  in  her  own  way.  He  is  a  very 
remarkable  person." 

"  So  I  think  1"  I  uttered,  in  sober  veracity. 

"  Depend  upon  it,  my  dear  Grace,  there  is  more  certainty  ot 
happiness  in  these  marriages  which  young  ladies  are  apt  to  cry 
oat  against,  because  of  the  disparity  of  disposition  and  taste  in 
the  parties  united.  Where  there  is  unison  of  feeling,  perfect 
congeniality  of  sentiment,  both  , weary  of  the  sameness.  It 
Bounds  well  to  talk  of  walking  the  same  road,  but  if  you  will 
excuse  a  homely  phrase,  a  double  track  is  better.  Now  Louise 
Mid  Mr.  Wilson  never  quarrel.  Not  a  hard  speech  has  ever 
beet,  exchanged.  They  agree  most  amicably  to  differ,  and 
avoid  the  repeated  collisions  to  which  loving  couples  whc  will 
walk  together  are  constantly  liable." 

"  Yours  is  an  ingenious  theory,  Mrs.  Wynne,"  said  I,  amused 
at  her  overt  worldliness  ;  her  refined  repudiation  of  a  fallacy 


MOSS-SIDE.  34i 

sanctioned  by  ages,  held  as  undeniable  truth  Vy  many  genera' 
tions.  It  occurred  to  me,  too,  how  close  wis  the  similarit} 
between  her  very  material  views  and  the  etherealizcd  doctrines 
inculcated  by  her  daughter.  Did  this  conjunction  of  extremis* 
then  form  "  the  faultless  circle  of  Truth,  effulgent  and  eternal,  •' 
of  which  the  latter  had  written  ?  a  sentence  untranshitablr 
otherwise  to  my  literal  comprehension. 

"  Amelia  is  not  at  home,"  Mrs.  Wynne  was  saying,  "  or  she 
would  have  called  with  me  this  forenoon.  It  affords  me  pleasure 
to  announce  to  you  that  she  is  likely  to  follow  her  sister's  exam 
pie  iu  the  course  of  the  coining  Fall.  She  has  contracted  at 
engagement  with  an  excellent  gentleman,  a  particular  friend  of 
the  family,  and  perfectly  eligible  in  every  respect." 

I  had  heard  of  this  prospective  alliance  before,  but  deemed  it 
wisest  not  to  say  sr ,  lest  her  keen-sightedness  should  read  the 
remainder  of  the  information  I  had  received  touching  her 
"  eligible,"  viz.  tha',  he  was  nearer  fifty  than  forty  years  of  age, 
cramped  in  intellect,  ungainly  in  person,  cross  and  parsimoni- 
ous, and  reputed  a  millionaire. 

"  The  match  has  the  unqualified  approbation  of  her  father  and 
myself.  Having  her  real  good  most  at  heart,  we  could  not 
refrain  from  congratulating  her  and  ourselves  upon  her  prospects. 
I  am  happily  disappointed  in  the  giddy  girl's  choice,  for  her 
volatile  spirits  and  tendency  to  willfulness  have  caused  me  some 
misgivings  as  to  her  destiny.  She  is  acquiring  stability  of  char- 
acter and  sobriety  of  demeanor  now — a  marked  change  which 
commenced  the  very  hour  of  her  engagement.  Dutiful  children 
are  the  greatest  pride  and  delight  of  a  faithful  mother's  heart* 
In  my  imperfect  way,  I  have  endeavored  to  discharge  my  duty 
to  mine,  and,  up  to  this  time,  have  been  amply  repaid  fur  my 
labor  and  anxiety." 

The  cobweb  performed  a  journey  to  her  eye  upon  an  unneces- 
sary errand,  for  /he  placid  orbs  were  di-y  as  Sahara,  still  and 


342  MO88-8IDE. 

frozen  an  an  Alpine  glacier.  Her  maternal  affection,  as  I  have 
said  elsewhere,  was  her  distinguishing  trait.  As  she  advanced 
in  life  the  hobby  had  become  an  idiosyncrasy,  paraded  as  one 
whose  interest  must  be  apparent  to  everybody,  and  therefore 
was  never  cut  of  season.  I  was  meditating  upon  this,  and  cal- 
culating the  probable  amount  of  nature  and  of  habit  combined 
In  her  foible,  when  she  scattered  addition  and  subtraction  right 
and  left,  by  an  unlooked-for  shot. 

"  You  have  had  a  visit  from  Herbert  to-day  ?" 

"  Madam  1"  I  ejaculated. 

She  said  it  over,  unmindful  of  my  dying  color  and  irregular 
breathing. 

"  Herbert,  my  son,  has  been  to  see  you  to-day." 

It  was  an  assertion,  not  a  question,  yet  I  denied  it. 

"  No,  madam — I  should  say,  not  to  my  knowledge." 

How  I  blessed  the  window  shades  and  curtains  that  shut  out 
the  prying,  tale-telling  light  ! 

"  I  stopped  my  carriage  upon  the  block  adjoining  this,  to 
leave  a  card,  and  saw  him  come  out  of  the  house,  accompanied 
by  Mrs.  Leigh,"  persisted  the  lady,  impaling  me  with  those 
unmoving  eyes. 

I  rallied  to  sustain  the  inspection. 

"  Ah  1"  affecting  to  see  through  the  whole  affair  as  clearly  as 
ehe  did  through  my  deceit  ;  "  May  came  to  my  room  to  say 
that  there  was  some  one  below,  and  that  she  was  going  to  walk. 
I  do  not  think  she  mentioned  that  it  was  Mr.  Wynne,  but  I  waa 
writing  and  did  not  pay  a  great  deal  of  attention  to  her." 

"They  maintain  their  ancient  Platonic  affection  with  mucb 
constancy,"  said  Mrs.  Wynne.  "He  is  more  attentive  to  her 
than  to  any  other  lady.  Some  comment  upon  this  and  hint 
broadly  at  the  growth  of  a  more  romantic  reciprocal  sentiment ; 
but  I  try  to  silence  the  report.  Herbert  has  not  forbidden  me 
V)  continue  this  course  ;  indeed,  he  was  actually  angry  that  his 


ICOBS-BIDK.  343 

biotherly  regard  should  be  so  misinterpreted.  I  proposed  thai 
the  exhibitions  of  his  esteem  should  be  more  prudent  ;  but  he  i* 
a  headstrong  boy,  and  I  got  only  a  black  look  and  a  surly  nega- 
tive for  my  unfortunate  counsel.  I  perceived  I  was  touching 
ipon  delicate  ground,  aid  have  since  repressed  my  uneasiness  it 
his  presence." 

I  detected  the  latent  spite  her  utmost  tact  could  not  hidp, 
Her  motherly  feeling  wa&  as  nominal  as  his  sonship. 

"  I  have  wished  that  I  could  speak  unreservedly  with  Mrs. 
Leigh  upon  this  subject,  for  I  fear  that  she  may  have  formed  an 
erroneous  idea  of  my  feelings  and  actions  in  this  business. 
May  I  rely  upon  you,  Grace,  you,  who  used  to  be  so  lovely  a 
peacemaker — to  free  her  mind  of  any  notion  that  I  am,  or  ever 
was,  averse  to  her  union  with  my  son  ?  She  was  the  chosen  and 
familiar  associate  of  my  Louise,  and  in  those  days,  had  my  affec- 
tion and  confidence.  Although  our  intercourse  is  more  distant 
now,  these  feelings  remain  unaltered.  She  is  still  very  pretty  ; 
is  amiable  and  intelligent  ;  her  standing  in  her  circle  cannot 
be  questioned — she  would  acquit  herself  creditably  in  any  ; 
what  motive  could  I  have  for  objecting  to  her  entering  my 
family,  if  she  were  Herbert's  choice  ?  That  she  is  not,  or  that 
there  is,  at  any  rate,  no  definite  betrothal,  I  have  declared  to  be 
my  belief.  My  object  in  reverting  to  this,  and  to  you — to  whom 
it  may  be  painful  to  think  of  her  second  marriage  with  any 
one — is  that  I  may  right  myself  in  your  sister's  eyes,  if  I  have 
suffered.  I  am  sensitive  as  regards  my  place  in  the  heart? 
where  I  have  gained  a  footing.  The  danger — the  chance,  I 
mean — of  their  marrying  is  lessened,  if  not  removed,  by  He:- 
bert's  departure.  As  I  said  to  a  lady  yesterday — a  believer  in 
the  engagement — he  would  not  leave  his  native  laud  for  three 
years,  if  it  contained  his  future  wife — he  knowing  her  to  be  sucb 
— particularly  as  it  is  optional  with  him  to  go  or  to  remain." 

Was  this  frankness  an  artfnl  stratagem  to  enlighten  me  as  tc 


344  M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  K  . 

the  futility  of  any  schemes  I  might  have  ur  on  her  son,  or  did 
Bhe  design  to  insult  May,  and  poison  my  mind  with  suspicions  of 
her  fidelity  to  the  memory  of  my  brother?  These  questions 
shot  through  my  brain  while  the  rockers  were  in  mid  career,  bu< 
the  closing  remark  expelled  them. 

"  Where  is  he  going  ?"  I  gasped,  the  cold  sweat  breaking 
through  my  skin. 

"  You  may  well  be  amazed,  my  dear.  A  young  man  of  his 
prospects,  his  home  ties,  his  patriotism  !  It  appears  impos- 
sible— unnatural  !  but  so  it  is.  He  sails  this  afternoon  for  Cali- 
fornia, that  semi-barbarous  country.  It  is  a  hare-brained 
notion,  I  fear  ;  yet  Mr.  Wynne  will  not  raise  a  finger  to  dis- 
suade him,  and  other  of  his  friends  encourage  him  to  believe 
that  if  he  can  found  a  branch  of  his  business  there,  it 
will  prove  very  lucrative.  So  he  has  set  his  face  to  the  South- 
west, and  no  mortal  power  can  stir  him  from  his  purpose.  Men 
rail  at  our  caprices.  Between  ourselves,  it  is  because  we  infringe 
upon  theirs  when  we  venture  to  indulge  our  whims." 

"  Mr.  Wynne  sails  this  afternoon,  you  say  ?  In  what  vessel  ?" 
My  voice  did  not  tremble  now. 

"  In  the  Benjamin  Franklin.  He  called  here  to  say  '  Fare- 
well,' I  presume.  His  resolution  was  hasty,  that  is,  hi? 
announcement  of  it  to  us  was  ;  but  he  is  more  reserved  to  us 
than  any  of  our  other  children  are,  or  ever  will  be,  I  devoutly 
pray.  Now,  my  love,  what  is  there  to  prevent  you  from 
stepping  into  my  carriage,  and  riding  home  with  me  to  partake 
of  a  family  dinner  ?  You  used  to  be  domesticated  with  us  dur- 
ing vacations,  and  when  you  paid  us  that  welcome  visit  at 
Louise's  marriage.  Mr.  Wynne  will  be  charmed  to  meet  you 
You  have  a  great  admirer  in  him.  He  it  was,  who  hearing  from 
Mr.  Wilson  that  you  were  so  near  us,  told  me  where  to  find  you. 
Gome  !  what  say  you  to  ray  plan  for  pleasing  him  ?" 

"  That  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  do  it  to-day.     I  thank  you 


MOBS-SIDE.  34£ 

for  your  invitation,  and  him  for  his  favorable  remembrance,  but 
it  is  out  of  my  power  to  go  with  you.  I  will  try  to  return 
your  3all  before  I  leave  for  the  South." 

J  'elt  that  my  manner  was  restrained  and  high,  and  I  did  not 
'are  "  If  she  would  only  go  1"  groaned  my  heart.  "  Oh  ! 
*hy  does  she  stay  ?  Am  I  not  tortured  sufficiently  ?  Have  not 
those  pale-bhe  eyes  looked  their  fill  ?" 

I  could  have  stamped  ;  wrung  my  hands  and  cried  aloud  with 
impatience  ;  but  I  set  my  teeth  tightly  and  stiffened  the  jerking 
muscles,  until  blonde  and  lips,  a  second  time,  honored  my  face, 
and  I  lost  her  and  the  swing  at  the  front  door.  Slow  and  hard 
fell  my  footsteps  upon  the  stairs  ;  slower  and  harder  was  their 
beat  upon  the  chamber-floor ;  but  passion  raged  with  tornado 
violence.  Sometimes  I  checked  my  walk  to  feel  my  hands,  to 
look  at  my  reflection  in  the  mirror,  in  very  doubt  of  my  identity. 
i  felt  congealed  flesh,  the  blood  purpled  under  the  nails  ;  I 
beheld  an  ashy  visage,  with  eyes  of  living  fire.  I  knew  myself 
to  be  possessed  of  a  legion  of  demons. 

His  then  was  the  society  from  which  May  succeeded  so  inge- 
niously in  banishing  me  ;  his,  her  escort  in  the  walk  that  was  to 
be  so  brief,  and  had  already  lasted,  it  seemed  to  me,  hours.  He 
came  hither  frequently — daily  perhaps  ;  but  with  the  like  clever 
manoeuvres,  they  continually  hoodwinked  me.  When  I  tripped 
through  that  private  entry,  but  a  door  divided  me  from  him.  I 
had  seen  his  hand — a  step  nearer — and  one  glimpse  of  his  face 
had  been  mine — a  glimpse  for  which,  in  my  frenzy,  I  would  now 
lie  down  and  die.  He  had  heard  my  voice.  Did  its  tones,  did 
the  melody  they  warbled  revive  no  visions  pleasant  and  mournful 
to  the  soul  ?  or  were  the  innuendoes  of  his  wily  mother — who 
insinuated  belief  while  professing  to  doubt — true,  and  brother 
and  sister  forgotten  together  in  the  allurements  of  a  later,  more 
fortunate  love  ?  I  stopped  before  the  portrait,  and  the  lightfu] 
eyes  took  the  anguished  stare  of  mine.  I  wept  while  I  looked— 
15* 


346  MOSS-SIDE. 

hot  rain  that  aggravated  the  heart-burning.  Once  I  had  mj 
hand  upon  the  frame  to  turn  it  to  the  wall ;  a  token  which 
she  should  see  and  recognize,  the  instant  she  entered  ;  but  I 
drew  it  away,  and  left  it  to  smite  her  with  the  beauty  she  once 
lo?ed. 

She  was  coming  !  The  step  approaching,  languid  with  fatigue 
or  heaviness  of  spirit,  was  still  hers.  I  dressed  my  face  in  a 
hypocritical  smile,  the  just  return  for  what  I  expected  to  receive 
But  hers  was  beamlcss,  and  her  voice,  gentle  and  affectionate, 
wanted  the  ringing  music  that  belonged  to  it. 

"  Have  you  been  very  lonely,  Grace,  dear  ?"  she  said,  tossing 
her  bonnet  and  mantle  upon  the  bureau.  "  I  am  sorry  I 
remained  away  so  long  a  time." 

"  I  have  not  suffered  from  solitude,"  I  returned.  "  You 
enjoyed  your  walk,  I  hope." 

"  Not  very  much,  and  I  have  come  back  with  a  headache." 

"  Lie  down  !"  I  advised.  "  If  you  rest  in  this  shaded  room 
for  an  hour  or  so,  you  may  get  over  it." 

She  complied,  and  feeling  very  much  as  if  I  were  heaping 
coals  of  fire  upon  it  instead,  I  bound  her  brow  with  my  hands. 

"Dear  Grace  1"  she  said,  faintly. 

A  drop  oozed  from  beneath  her  eyelid,  and  trickled  down  her 
cheek.  A  sense  of  self-reproach  arose  in  my  bosom.  I  remained 
Bilent,  holding  her  head  and  looking  into  the  countenance  which 
had  never  yet  deceived  me. 

"  I  ha^e  had  a  trial  this  morning,  Grace,  a  sore  trial,"  she 
continued,  "  yet  it  was  not  so  much  the  personal  grief  to  myself, 
as  sympathy  with  another.  I  cannot  tell  you  its  nature  now." 

"  Do  rot  1"  I  uttered  impulsively.     "  I  trust  you,  May." 

Her  eyes  opened  in  surprise  upon  me  at  this  singular  exclama 
tion  ;  but  I  did  not  explain  my  meaning.  I  placed  pillows  for  her 
aching  head,  and  kissing  her  before  I  commended  her  to  th« 
healing  influence  of  sleep,  I  called  her  "  sister." 


MOSS-SIDE.  347 

"  You  are  ray  own  blessed  lister,  May  1  I  shall  never  address 
fou  by  any  other  title." 

"  Never  !"  was  her  response.  "  It  is  the  dearest  and  proudest 
to  me  that  you  can  use." 

I  left  her,  with  the  pictured  face  beaming  down  upon  her  from 
the  wall,  smiling  its  blessing  upon  her  sinless  slumbers,  and  I 
bore  myself  and  my  misery  to  another  part  of  the  house.  Mise- 
rable I  was,  after  the  transport  of  unjust  doubt  and  vindictive- 
ness  had  subsided.  Assurance  that  I  had  wronged  her  faithful 
heart  did  not  mitigate  my  suffering.  What  "  trial "  was  hers  if 
not  that  she  had  been  forced  to  reject  the  offer  of  a  love  more 
hopeless,  less  constant  to  its  original  object,  although  that  object 
still  lived,  than  was  hers,  dedicated  to  the  dead  ?  This  was  a 
hypothesis,  obvious  in  its  probability,  but  it  wounded  me  less 
cruelly  than  the  thought  of  the  thousands  of  miles,  the  months 
and  years  about  to  be  put  between  us.  I  had  so  lived — as  I  now 
found — in  the  hope  of  seeing  him  once  again  !  not  of  speaking 
with  him,  for  I  dreaded  an  indifferent  glance  from  the  eyes  that 
had  looked  such  fond  regard  upon  me — but  one  moment's  sight 
of  feature  and  form  ;  one  sound  of  the  voice  whose  echoes  wan- 
dered forever  among  the  hills  of  my  heart's  background — what 
would  I  not  risk  and  do  to  purchase  these  ? 

"  They  may  be  yours  1"  whispered  a  springing  hope,  wild  as 
Bwift.  "  See  him  I  There  may  yet  be  time." 

I  hunted  eagerly  for  a  morning's  paper,  and  ran  eye  and  fin- 
ger down  the  closely-packed  columns  of  marine  advertisements. 
There  was  the  name  I  the  "  Benjamin  Franklin,"  advertised  to 

rtart  from  the street  pier  that  afternoon  at  four  o'clock.  ] 

employed  no  artifice,  and  none  was  required.  May  kept  her 
room  •  Mrs.  Seaton  was  conversing  with  my  aunt  in  the  chamber 
of  the  latter,  where  I  sat  until  the  moment  I  had  settled  as  best 
for  my  purpose  drew  near.  Then  I  repaired  to  the  dressing- 
closet  where  hat  and  veil  were  ready,  donued  them,  and  with  DC 


348  MOSS-BIDE. 

other  protection  from  the  heat,  weut  out  upon  the  burning  street? 
whose  pavements  crisped  my  shoes,  and  glared  fierce  radiations 
into  my  eyes.  Hot  and  still  they  were — still  for  city  streets 
The  very  booming  of  the  ever-raging  river  sounded,  from  afar 
sluggish  and  dull. 

I  knew  where  was  the  nearest  hackney-coach  stand,  and  stop> 
ping  at  an  unpretending  carriage  before  the  door  of  the  stable, 
asked  if  it  were  engaged.  It  was  not ;  the  horses  were  hastily 
attached  ;  the  driver  was  upon  the  box,  and  I  within,  safely  hid- 
den behind  its  Venetian  blinds,  rolling  towards  the  bay  and  wharf. 
I  concerted  every  part  of  the  scheme  before  we  were  merged  in 
the  uproarious  throng  of  vehicles  and  human  beings,  that  trode, 
and  fought,  and  pushed  close  to  the  water's  edge.  The  driver 
alighted  and  opened  the  door.  He  was  a  civil,  steady-looking 
man  of  middle  age. 

" street  pier,  ma'am — Benjamin  Franklin  1"  he  pro- 
nounced in  a  business  manner.  , 

I  gave  him  some  money,  and  requested  him  to  drive  as  near  aa 
he  could  to  the  passage-way  to  the  vessel,  and  halt  there  for  fur- 
ther orders.  He  fulfilled  the  behest  to  the  letter  after  a  deal  of 
trouble  to  himself,  in  which  I  took  not  the  remotest  concern.  We 
had  a  most  favorable  position.  From  my  loop-hole  I  examined 
every  passenger  that  pressed  along  the  straitened  limits  guarded 
by  the  cross  policemen.  The  din  was  almost  unbearable,  but  I 
set  myself  determinedly  to  endure  it — nay,  more — to  analyze  it. 
First,  I  understood  the  yells  of  the  newsboys  and  confectionery- 
venders  ;  then  the  shrill  cry,  "  Matches  !  a  penny  a  box — 
matches  1"  from  old-faced  children  who  dodged  miraculously 
mong  heels  and  carriages  ;  then  the  fragmentary  sentences  of 
hose  about  to  embark  to  others  they  were  leaving  behind.  And 
then — so  near  to  me  that  I  could  have  touched  him  by  throating 
out  the  fingers  that  held  apart  the  slats  of  the  shutter — came 
Herbert  Wynne  !  His  father  was  with  him,  and  they  me  red  a* 


MOSS-SIDE.  34:9 

ft  slow  rate.  T  should  have  been  able  to  ttike  a  deliberate  view 
of  the  taller  and  younger,  even  if  they  had  not  paused  by  my  ve 
hide.  An  acquaintance  accosted  them  at  this  spot.  It  was  Mr 
Dumont. 

"  Ha  !  Mr.  Wynne  !  1  was  looking  for  you  !"  He  spoka 
Ii»udly,  that  he  might  be  heard  above  the  confusion.  "  I  arn  here 
mr,  to  say  to  you,  bon  voyage  !" 

"  Thank  you,  sir.  Sailors  say  that  good  wishes  change  to  fa 
rorablc  winds.  I  shall  be  grateful  for  both  or  either." 

The  clear  enunciation  conveyed  every  word  to  me.  To  the 
echo  among  those  shadowy  hills  they  were  committed,  there  to 
dwell  with  others  that  had  emanated  from  the  same  source.  He 
towered  there,  fully  a  head  above  the  rest  of  the  throng,  except 
Mr.  Dumont.  But  the  latter  lost  immeasurably  by  comparison 
with  him  in  other  respects.  The  ingenuous  expression  of  one 
countenance,  the  cynic  smile  of  the  other,  I  noted,  brief  as  was 
my  opportunity.  They  walked  on  towards  the  great,  black  hulk, 
rocking  a  few  paces  beyond  us  ;  mounted  the  inclined  plane  that 
connected  it  with  the  shore  ;  were  out  of  sight  for  a  minute,  and 
reappeared,  a  group  that  could  not  be  mistaken — at  least,  not 
by  me — upon  the  hurricane  deck. 

Faster  rushed  the  tide  of  life  past  my  hiding-place  ;  louder, 
hoarser  was  the  roar.  I  saw  only  those  three  figures,  darkly 
distinct  against  the  noon-bright  sky  ;  heard  nothing  but  the 
echoes  wandering,  sobbing  restlessly  in  my  soul. 

A  bell  clanged  from  the  vessel,  and  a  shout  repeated  its  warn- 
ing. The  tide  flowed  back  as  boisterously  as  it  had  ebbed;  the 
black  sea-monster  heaved  his  wet  sides  yet  higher  into  the  sun, 
'aved  them  deeper  in  the  wave.  The  deck  group — my  group — 
was  broken.  Heads  bowed  over  clasped  hands  ;  two  joined  the 
shoreward  bound  ;  one  remained  in  his  place,  motionless  an  a 
pillar  of  stone.  The  decks  were  soon  filled  with  a  tossing  mass 
of  forms,  looking  their  last  of  land.  He  was  alone-  -no  friendly 


S50  MOSS-BIDE. 

arm,  no  tone  of  affection  was  there  to  support  him  if  he  sorrowed 
for  what  he  was  quitting.  Yet  had  I  not  vowed  to  follow  him 
wherever  he  led  ? 

"  He  does  not  want  me  now  1"  I  said,  sternly;  and  I  was  calmly 
observant  again. 

Once  he  raised  his  arm.  It  was  to  wave  a  salute  to  Mr.  Da 
Biont,  who  threw  his  handkerchief  into  the  air,  as  the  report  of 
the  signal  cannon  shook  tho  earth,  and  the  huge  keel  cut  its  first 
furrow  in  the  water. 

"  Ready  now,  ma'am  ?"  said  the  driver. 

«  No— wait  1" 

The  wharf-throng  thinned  rapidly,  urged  as  they  were  by  the 
dust  and  heat.  When,  finally,  my  horses'  heads  were  turned, 
mine  was  the  only  carriage  there,  and  the  way  was  unobstructed 
to  where,  through  the  gap  in  the  forest  of  masts  where  the 
Franklin  had  lain,  I  could  see  her,  a  dwindling  barque  upon  the 
horizon,  and  between  us  long  swells  of  green  water,  like  moving 
grates. 


M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  K  .  851 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

WAY  was  pale  and  said  little  during  the  evening,  yet  did  not 
teem  disposed  to  sleep  when  we  were  laid  down  for  the  night.  I, 
too,  was  wakeful,  but  I  manifested  it  by  profound  stillness,  while 
she  stirred  frequently,  as  though  her  couch  were  set  with  prick- 
les, and  sighed,  under  the  weight  of  physical  or  mental  disCom- 
fort. 

"  Grace,"  she  said,  at  length,  "  are  you  asleep  ?" 

"  No,  dear  May.     Do  you  wish  anything  ?" 

"  Your  ear  and  your  indulgence.  I  have  a  message  for  yoo 
from  one  to  whom  you  were  once — a  friend." 

"  Well  ?"     I  waited  for  the  rest,  anticipating  its  purport 

"  Do  not  accuse  me  of  a  lack  of  feeling  or  propriety,  Grace,. 
In  venturing  upon  what  is,  by  tacit  consent,  forbidden  ground.'' 
She  moved  nearer  to  me.  "  Herbert  Wynne  was  here  to-day.  I 
went  out  with  him — I  will  be  sincere  with  you — because  I  feared 
your  questioning,  particularly  as  you  had  seen  that  a  gentleman 
was  with  me  in  the  breakfast-room.  Moreover,  1  was  too  much 
agitated  to  talk  collectedly,  and  I  did  not  wish  to  distress  you. 
As  to  Herbert's  visit,  it  was  the  only  one  he  has  made  me  iu 
several  weeks.  He  came  to  bid  me  farewell,  for  he  sailed  thia 
afternoon  upon  a  voyage — to  California." 

She  listened  for  some  expression  of  surprise,  some  comment, 
but  I  let  her  resume  the  story  told  so  timidly. 

"  I  did  not  tell  you  that  he  was  here,  because,  from  what  yon 
wrote  to  me  the  last  time  his  name  occurred  in  our  letters;  from 


352  MOBS-SIDE. 

your  conduct  in  regard  to  him  since,  I  supposed  that  the  inter- 
view would  be  productive  of  uupleasant  emotions  to  y  DU." 

"  And  to  him  also,"  I  interrupted.     "  You  were  quite  right." 

"  He  charged  me  with  a  message  to  you,"  May  continued.  "  1 
must  assure  you  from  him  of  his  cordial  esteem,  his  kindest 
wishes  for  your  welfare  ;  that  neither  time  nor  circumstance  had 
letracted  from  his  regard  for  your  worth,  his  respect  for  tho  mo- 
tives which  actuated  you  in  measures  he  deemed  unreasonable, 
while  the  disappointment  was  fresh.  '  And  ask  her,'  he  said,  '  to 
remember  me,  to  pray  for  me  sometimes,  as  for  a  brother  who  is 
ever  willing  to  serve  her,  whose  principal  regret  is  that  the 
chances  of  doing  this  are  so  small.' " 

"  He  was  very  kind,"  I  answered.  "  A  portion  of  your  com- 
munication was  already  known  to  me  ;  that  he  had  been  to  see 
you,  that  you  went  out  together,  that  he  embarked  this  after- 
noon." 

"  How  ?  who  in  the  house" 

"No  one  in  the  house  told  me  these  things.  Mrs.  Wynne 
drove  up  as  you  left  your  door." 

"  Ah  !  she  spoke  of  us — then  ?  What  more  did  she  say  on  this 
interesting  topic  ? — interesting,  she  evidently  considers  it." 

"  Nothing  of  consequence,  nothing  that  was  worthy  of  notice," 
I  said. 

But  she  was  not  to  be  put  off  in  this  style.  "  Grace  !"  rais 
ing  herself  up.  "  She  is  no  mother  to  Herbert,  no  wcll-wishei 
to  me.  He  has  chagrined  her,  earned  her  implacable  enmity  by 
resisting  her  attempts  to  negotiate  a  marriage  for  him  with  a 
wealthy  heiress,  and  upon  me  has  fallen  the  rancor  of  her  spleen. 
She  undertakes  to  gainsay  reports  which  no  one  ever  breathed 
until  her  pretence  of  setting  all  right  interrupted  the  ordinary 
course  of  affairs.  Did  she  not  hint  to  you  that  my  friendship  for 
Herbert  was  not  what  it  seemed,  and  retail  the  '  they  says,'  sh« 
would  have  you  think  were  current  concerung  us  ?" 


MOSS-SIDE.  353 

I  was  silent. 

"  I  knew  that  she  would  not  spare  you  or  nee  !"  pursued  May, 
with  some  bitterness.  "  Grace  !  sister  !  say  that  you  disbelieve 
her  charges  ;  that  her  insidious  whispers  did  not  obtain  a  bean 
Ing  from  your  heart  I" 

"  Did  I  not  declare  my  trust  in  you  to-day,  just  after  she  had 
left  me  ?"  I  said. 

'  Yet  you  do  not  speak  quite  naturally.  Is  there  something 
yet  unexplained  ?  Have  I  displeased  or  wounded  you  ?" 

"  No  1  no  I  the  machinations  of  a  thousand  Mrs.  Wynnes 
shall  not  engender  a  suspicion  of  your  truth  to  me,  your  faith  to 
your  husband,  May." 

"My  'husband  !'  In  heaven,  as  upon  earth,  he  can  never 
cease  to  be  that,"  she  said,  solemnly.  "  A  second  marriage 
would  be  a  sin  in  my  case.  When  we  stood  at  the  altar  to- 
gether, my  vow  was  for  time  and  for  eternity.  '  There  is  neither 
marrying  nor  giving  in  marriage,'  among  the  blessed,  we  are 
told ;  but  I  feel  that  his  angel  will  attend  my  arrival  in  our  upper 
home,  that  those  who  have  loved  best  here,  will  not  there  forget 
their  earthly  ties.  Do  not  misjudge  me,  sister,  because  I  am  out- 
wardly like  those  who  have  not  lost  and  mourned.  The  Father, 
in  extinguishing  the  lamp  in  my  breast,  has  instructed  me  to 
light  up  gloomy  places  in  other  hearts  ;  bade  me  draw,  from 
many  rills,  the  refreshing  for  which  I  once  applied  to  a  single 
fountain.  It  is  thus  Frederic  would  have  had  me  act — to  love 
and  do  good  to  his  kind,  for  him  and  for  myself." 

But  I  longed  to  have  her  add  that  her  reputed  lover  had 
repaid  her  friendship  in  exact  kind.  How  peacefully  I  could 
have  slept  if  she  had  said,  "  I  am  no  more  than  a  sister  to  him  1" 
It  was  not  spoken,  and  my  latest  thought  was  a  prayer  for  the 
•vanderer  upon  the  sea  ;  a  resolution  that  I  would  seek  foi 
strength  to  think  of  him  as  he  had  desired  ;  as  the  brother,  I  gc 
wished  May  to  claim  for  herself,  although  a  dearer  place  coulc 
never  be  mine. 


354  MOSS-BIDE. 

I  did  not  repay  Mrs.  Wynne's  visit.  If  it  had  been  my  inten 
tioii  to  do  so,  I  must  have  economized  time  very  savingly  ;  foi 
my  aunt's  physician  granted  her  leave  to  depart  a  week  earlier 
than  we  had  looked  for  his  permission.  He  was  undoubtedly 
Boved  to  this  by  her  longing  for  home. 

"  I  air  withering  here  !"  she  said  to  me,  the  evening  sh 
received  the  warrant  of  liberation.  "  I  dream  of  Moss-side,  of 
its  groves  and  flowers,  of  my  own  room,  and  of  Lilly,  the  dear 
babe  !  It  is  strange  that  I  should  dream  so  much,  and  every 
night  !" 

"  It  is  a  sign  of  rejuvenation,  aunt,"  I  remarked,  jocosely. 
"  Elderly  people  are  less  given  to  night-visions,  and  recall  them 
less  perfectly  than  do  young  ones." 

"  And  you  would  assign  this  reason,  also,  for  my  many 
thoughts  of  my  youth,  which  seems  lately  more  a  present  reality, 
than  this  infirm  old  age." 

"  Old  age,  aunt  1"  repeated  May,  entering.  "  This  from  a 
handsome  woman  who  has  scarcely  passed  the  meridian  of  life  1 
I  shall  apprehend  a  relapse,  if  these  symptoms  of  depression  con- 
tinue. Look  at  this  !" 

She  held  up  one  of  the  long,  thick  locks  I  was  combing;  black 
as  night,  with  an  occasional  silver  line  stealing  through  it.  Di- 
vested of  her  mourning-cap  and  nun-like  attire,  my  aunt's 
appearance  was  indeed  remarkably  youthful,  for  one  who  had 
experienced  sickness  and  care  for  so  many  years.  She  wore  a 
white  wrapper,  and  her  hair,  unbound,  fell  over  her  shoulders, 
and  rounded,  by  shading,  the  decided  outlines  of  her  features. 
Our  assiduity  as  nurses  had  won  upon  her  gratitude,  and  hei 
helplessness  rendered  her  more  accessible  by  making  her  depen 
dent. 

She  met  May's  raillery  kindly. 

14 1  was  forty-six,  yesterday,"  she  said.  "  I  have  lived  almost 
half  a  century." 


MOSS-BIDE.  85£ 

*  i  j  (  I  ii  *aiT  ^o  see  fourscore  before  you  wear  out,"  replied 
Mft* 

"I  w..s  eixnt  to  say,  'Heaven  forbid  !'"  my  aunt  said, 
seriously  ;  "  but  i*  woald  be  sinful,  were  I  not  to  wait  patiently 
until  my  change  conres.  T  trust  I  am  not  so  rebellious  of  ths 
tardy  progress  of  Mire  kS  I  ased  to  be.  It  is  never  too  late  to 
learn,  and  I  am  studying  tho  goodness,  instead  of  the  judgment 
of  God." 

May  gave  me  a  glance  cv-sr  the  invalid's  head.  She  had 
never  seen  her  so  conversable  before.  I  incited  her  to  talk  ; 
partly  in  the  idea  that  the  heaHby  play  of  the  mind  might  con- 
duce to  the  good  of  the  body  ;  pw»ly  through  pardonable  curi 
osity  to  gather  some  remmiscenoes  ol  the  youth  to  which  I  now 
heard  her  allude  for  the  second  time  in  all  the  years  we  had 
lived  together. 

"  I  thought  the  flight  of  time  was  twitter,  the  further  one  ad 
vanced  in  life,"  I  remarked. 

"  That  depends  upon  the  number  tend  weight  of  the  clog?  upon 
the  wheels,"  rejoined  she.  "  If  they  h*ve  travelled  through  miry 
roads,  they  turn  heavily.  I  can  look  back  to  &  season — no  short 
one  either — when,  to  me,  they  moved  without  ft'ction,  and  their 
way  was  over  velvet  turf.  I  was  a  happy  cL\ld." 

Her  eyes  were  bright  and  soft,  and  although  she  chafed  the 
lifeless  hand  when  she  spoke,  it  was  from  habit.  She  forgot  ita 
want  of  vitality  in  the  scenes  amid  which  Fancy  VTas  roving. 

"  It  was  a  lovely  homestead  at  which  we  lived — where  I  was 
born.  I  have  never  smelled  such  roses  and  jesssircioe  anywheie 
else.  There  was  one  white  jessamine  that  grew  over  the  V7ia 
dows  of  my  mother's  room — much  more  luxuriant  Kud  fragrant 
than  those  your  father  planted  at  Moss-side  in  memoxv  of  that, 
The  windows  were  large  and  long,  and  when  I  could  just 
BO  far,  it  was  my  delight  to  pull  myself  up  by  the  lattice 
ix)vering  the  lower  part,  and  pluck  my  hands  full  of  the  sta>  bio* 


uOf>  M  O  8  8  -8  1  D  E  , 

Boms  Then  tliere  were  magnolia  trees,  under  which  my  sister 
and  myself  built  our  baby-house  ;  for  the  summer  showers 
glanced  from  the  varnished  leaves  as  from  a  tight  roof  ;  and  in 
the  orange-grove,  my  mother's  pride,  we  collected  on  fair  evenings, 
when  tb"  day's  sports  and  labors  were  done,  and  sang  or  talked 
Until  bed-time.  It  was  a  sunny  home — a  bower  of  pleasure." 

"  How  many  brothers  and  sisters  had  you  ?"  asked  May. 

"  Two  brothers,  Archie  and  Frederic  ;  one  sister — Maggie — 
older  than  myself  by  two  years  and  a  half.  What  a  beauty  she 
was  !  Lilly  reminds  me  of  her  sometimes  ;  but  she  has  not  her 
regularity  of  feature,  nor  her  stature.  We  were  precisely  the 
same  height ;  in  everything  besides,  each  was  the  antipodes  of 
the  other.  She  was  as  mild  as  I  was  passionate,  as  docile  to 
control  as  I  was  refractory.  '  Day  and  night,'  we  were  often 
called.  My  first  grief  was  her  marriage.  I  was  ready  to  hate 
the  bridegroom  for  rifling  our  nest  of  its  most  beautiful  bird. 
She  was  hardly  fit  to  quit  it,  for  she  had  counted  only  seventeen 
summers  ;  but  our  parents  were  over-indulgent,  and  the  young 
couple  were  ardently  attached  to  one  another.  My  father  pre- 
sented them  with  a  pretty  cottage  in  sight  of  our  piazza,  and  they 
commenced  housekeeping  in  a  style  that  reminded  one  of  the  toy 
establishment  under  the  magnolia.  The  mimicry  did  not  last 
long.  She  died  two  years  after  she  became  a  wife.  Poor  Mag- 
gie !» 

The  living  hand  still  stroked  its  palsied  fellow  ;  her  eyes  shone 
yet  more  softly,  looking  into  what  was  to  us,  vacant  space. 

"  I  never  think  of  her  as  ill  or  dying,  although  I  saw  her  while 
she  was  both.  To  my  eyes,  to-day,  she  is  dressed  in  her  brida1- 
obes,  blushing  with  love  and  bliss.  I  am  glad  this  is  so,  for  thus, 
I  would  believe,  she  looks  in  heaven — she  cannot  be  kvelier.  One 
little  incident  of  her  sickness  I  crerish  very  fondly.  She  had  a 
hand  of  perfect  beauty,  tiny  as  a  child's,  but  exquisitely  mould 
ed  ;  fair  as  a  lily,  except  where  the  fingers  were  lipped  with 


MOBS-BIDE  .  35? 

rose-color.  My  admiration  of  it  was  enthusiastic,  and  had 
caused  her  many  a  burst  of  amusement.  It  was  not  wasted  bj 
her  illness,  and  on  the  morning  of  the  death,  she  held  it  towards 
me  with  a  smile — '  I  wish,  Agnes,  I  could  leave  you  this  as  a 
keepsake  1;  They  made  her  grave  in  the  orange-grove.  Dear 
Maggie  I" 

"  You  were  almost  grown,  then,  were  you  not  ?"  said  I. 

It  was  a  luckless  query.  In  one  flash,  the  light  in  her  eyea 
burned  out  ;  with  one  shudder,  face  and  frame  were  inflexible. 

"  Yes — nearly.  I  am  sitting  up  beyond  my  bed-time,  and  de- 
taining you.  As  you  will  have  a  fatiguing  day  to-morrow,  pack- 
ing, you  will  wish  to  retire  early." 

The  following  evening,  she  went  with  us  to  the  parlor  after 
tea  :  an  uncommon  event,  for  since  her  affliction  had  laid  so  much 
infirmity  upon  her,  she  disliked  to  encounter  strangers.  May,  to 
whom  nothing  human  was  unapproachable,  settled  herself,  as  of 
pore,  upon  the  lowest  seat  in  the  apartment,  and  resting  lightly 
igainst  the  knee,  where  I  had  never  sat,  even  in  childhood, 
chatted  with  her  as  unrestrainedly  to  all  appearance,  as  she 
would  have  done  with  me.  My  father  was  near  Mrs.  Seaton, 
ind  Alfred  and  I  were  engrossed  by  the  examination  of  a  quan- 
tity of  music  he  had  purchased  as  a  gift  to  Lilly.  He  was  u 
warm-hearted  fellow,  and  behaved  to  me  with  the  loving  respect 
he  would  have  displayed  to  an  elder  sister. 

"  We  shall  miss  you  terribly  when  you  are  gone,"  he  said.  "  I 
ric  not  believe  that  your  aunt  is  well  enough  to  dismiss  her  phy« 
sician.  In  my  judgment,  she  would  act  more  prudently  in  delay 
big  her  departure  for  some  weeks  longer." 

"  The  wish  is  father  to  the  thought — is  it  not  ?"  I  asked. 

There  was  a  stir  in  the  hall.  My  aunt  half-arose,  but  there 
was  no  room  for  retreat. 

"The  victorious  Beautiful !"  said  Alfred,  aside  to  me,  as  the 
door  unclosed. 


358  M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  K  . 

But  it  was  not  the  subjugated  "  Useful "  that  attended  hsr 
Notwithstanding  the  disparity  in  their  ages,  Mr.  Dumont  cer- 
tainly looked  the  more  suitable  mate  for  her.  He  had  too  just  a 
taste  to  be  dashing  in  apparel  or  carriage,  but  he  could  not  faj? 
to  attract  notice  wherever  he  went.  Now,  he  was  most  bee  ;m 
ingly  dressed,  and  had  less  the  air  of  a  made-over  man  than 
nsuaL  He  shook  hands  with  Alfred,  who  met  him  near  the  en- 
trance ;  bowed,  with  his  own  eminent  grace,  to  Mrs.  Scakm, 
then  to  May,  who  introduced  "  My  aunt,  Miss  Leigh,"  and  in 
the  same  breath — "  My  father,  Mr.  Leigh,  whom  you  have  not 
met  before,  I  think,  Mr.  Dumont." 

My  aunt  fixed  a  startled  gaze  upon  him — a  glare,  whose  wild- 
ness  insanity  could  not  have  heightened  ;  then,  without  any  sign 
of  salutation,  sunk  her  head  in  her  hand.  May  told  us  afterward8 
that  she  overheard  a  muttering — a  .convulsive  sigh — "  No  I 
no  !  am  I  losing  my  reason  ?" 

My  father  recovered  from  a  transitory  confusion,  into  which 
the  entrance  ,of  our  visitors  had  cast  him,  and  with  his  natural 
politeness,  acknowledged  his  daughter-in-law's  introduction. 
Mr.  Dumont  performed  his  share  of  the  ceremony  in  haste,  that 
might  have  been  mistaken  for  disrespect.  His  discomposure  was 
as  apparent  to  us  all,  as  its  cause  was  unknown.  Once,  I  thought 
him  on  the  point  of  running  away,  instead  of  sitting  down  as  he 
was  invited  to  do.  Then,  rallying  with  a  species  of  effrontery, 
he  selected  a  seat  by  me.  This  scene  transpired  in  a  much 
shorter  time  than  has  been  consumed  in  its  description.  Louise 
and  May  endeavored  to  restore  ease  to  all  parties,  and  Alfred 
supported  them  ably.  Mr.  Dumont  would  not  speak  of  his  own 
accord,  and  I  addressed  him  with  some  trite  nothings. 

"  Excuse  me  !"  he  said,  under  his  breath.  "  What  were  you 
Baying  ?  This  visit  is  unexpected  to  me.  Mr.  Wilson  requested 
me  to  take  his  wife 'to  a  party  in  his  stead — he  not  being  ready. 
I  did  not  know  that  your  relative*  were  with  you.  We  cannot 
Btay  many  minutes." 


HOBS-BIDE.  359 

"  Has  he  taken  too  much  wiue  ?"  I  marvelled,  as  he  stumblet 
through  the  disconnected  sentences.  "  Something  has  thrown 
him  from  his  balance." 

"  You  contemplate  leaving  us  very  soon,  Mrs.  Wilson  informs 
mo,"  Mr.  Diimout  went  on. 

ilis  voice  was  almost  a  whisper  ;  but  my  aunt  dropped  Lef 
Ifcid  and  leaned  forward.  He  did  not  see  her,  and  I  strove  to 
engage  him  in  our  conversation  that  he  might  not  be  disturbed 
jy  her  inspection.  As  he  regained  his  presence  of  mind  and  his 
aabitual  manner,  the  agonized  interest  expressed  in  her  starting 
orbs  alarmed  me.  I  was  anxious  and  fluttered  ;  rambled  and 
hesitated  in  my  speech,  and  at  last,  stopped  short.  His  eyes, 
against  his  volition,  it  was  evident,  were  carried  by  mine  iu  the 
direction  of  her  chair.  She  was  rising — and  in  fear  or  amaze- 
ment, he  sprang  to  his  feet. 

Thus  they  confronted  each  other,  for  one  instant — one  only — 
and  she  walked  unassisted,  without  tottering,  across  the  floor. 
She  laid  her  hand  upon  his  bosom — it  might  have  been  to  assure 
herself  of  his  corporeal  presence — but  it  seemed  a  caressing  ges- 
ture. He  did  not  move — his  livid  face  looked  down  into  hers — 
bloodless  likewise,  but  in  her  eyes  were  burnings  that  mocked 
the  chill  of  age,  the  mists  of  years. 

"  Can  the  grave  give  up  its  dead  ?"  she  said,  in  thrilling  tones. 
"  Julian  !  Julian  I"  and  with  a  shriek,  "  It  is  he  1"  she  fell  for- 
ward into  his  arms. 

It  was  but  an  impulse,  the  instinct  of  nature  that  stretched 
them  to  receive  her  form.  It  would  have  escaped  them  by  its 
uwn  weight  had  not  my  father  relieved  him  of  his  burden. 

There  was  a  scene  of  utter  confusion.     My  aunt  was  extended 

pon  the  sofa  in  a  death-like  swoon.     Mrs.  Seatou,  May,  and 

myself  gathered  around  her  ;  doors  opened  and  shut ;  hurrying 

footsteps  went  to  and  fro.     When  I  recovered  my  self-possession 

sufficiently  to  enable  me  t«  note  others  besides  the  inanimate 


360  M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  E 

cause  of  the  commotion,  neither  Mr.  Pumont  u  >r  Alfred  were  ic 
be  seen  ;  Louise  stood  aloof,  steadfastly  surveying  us  ;  my  father 
eat  in  an  arm-chair  on  the  further  side  of  the  room,  his  figure 
bowed  together  in  speechless  emotion.  I  touched  him.  He 
raised  his  head  with  such  energy  of  action  that  I  started 
Back. 

"  What  is  it  ?"  he  demanded,  huskily,  shaking  off  his  stupor 
•  ad  striving  to  appear  a  sane,  collected  man,  while  his  disordered 
air  terrified  me. 

"  I  am  afraid  that  aunt  has  had  another  stroke,"  I  said. 

"  My  poor  Agnes  !"  This  was  said  more  naturally  "  It  is 
enough  to  kill  her  !" 

Alfred  had  gone  for  a  physician,  whose  arrival  afforded  us 
01  ly  temporary  tranquillity,  for,  by  the  light  of  another  morning, 
his  decision  had  gone  forth,  and  its  truth  been  ratified  by  our 
despairing  hearts.  There  was  no  hope  of  her  recovery  ;  a  bare 
possibility  that  she  would  revive,  even  partially,  from  insensi- 
bility. 

Insensibility,  dull  and  dead  it  was,  that  benumbed  every 
faculty  and  held  dominion  over  the  breathing  corpse.  Hour 
after  hour  was  marked  by  the  sharpening  of  the  features,  the 
deepening  of  the  greyish  tinge  about  the  mouth  and  eyes,  and 
towards  evening,  by  slower  and  shorter  respirations.  At  sunset, 
these  ceased.  The  last  worn  strand  that  bound  the  spirit  to 
the  clay,  parted  noiselessly  ;  the  troublings  of  the  wicked,  the 
toil  of  the  weary  were  forever  ended. 

Mrs.  Seatou  opened  the  shutters.  The  light  flowed  over  the 
bed  and  my  father's  countenance,  as  he  bent  down  to  close  the 
glazing  eyes.  Grief,  not  violent,  but  too  mighty  to  find  vent 
in  tears  or  words,  was  depicted  there.  One  gaze  upon  the 
changed  face,  and  he  turned  away  for  the  solitude  of  his  cham- 
ber, which  he  did  not  quit. until  the  day  of  the  funeral  We 
buried  her  by  the  side  of  Frederic  in  the  beautiful  city  of  the 


S  I   D 


dead,  hundreds  of  miles  away  from  her  Southern  home.  No 
Magnolia  or  Orange  blooms  above  her  ;  but  in  an  evei  sunny 
Laud  she  bears  the  palm-branch  of  victory,  wears  th<  white 
robe--  -for  through  much  tribulation  she  entered  the  Kin*- 


H  ft  •  E  I   .'j 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

was  a  sorrowful  returu  to  Moss-side  ;  yet  my  heart 
leaped  within  me,  and  a  smile  overspread  my  father's  haggard 
visage,  when  we  saw,  from  the  bend  of  the  road  into  the  lane, 
the  little  maiden  who  watched  in  the  porch  for  our  coining. 
Her  tears,  silent  and  fast,  bathed  our  cheeks,  as  we  clasped  her 
to  our  breasts.  In  mine,  and,  I  doubt  not,  in  her  grandparent's, 
was  a  tide  of  thanksgiving  that  this,  the  sunbeam  of  our  home, 
was  still  spared  ;  a  hopefulness  that  had  not  cheered  our  spirits 
aince  the  moment  of  our  bereavement. 

We  allowed  a  day  or  two  for  needed  rest,  and  then  addressed 
ourselves  to  the  task  of  altering  our  indoor  arrangements  to  suil 
the  lessened  number  of  our  household,  to  conceal  the  external 
signs  of  the  vacancy  we  could  not  forget.  We  chose  a  bright 
morning — Lilly  and  I — for  our  visit  to  the  desolate  chamber 
which  had  been  our  living-room  of  late  years.  The  unpruned 
vines  wandered  over  the  casements,  casting  unwonted  shadows 
through  the  place  ;  the  confined  air  was  tomb-like  in  feeling  and 
odor.  First,  we  threw  wide  windows  and  doors ;  but  the 
scented  breath  of  Summer  could  not  chase  away  the  awe  that 
induced  us  to  tread  on  tiptoe  around  the  bed,  and  the  great  old 
chair,  ghostly  in  its  spotless  cover  ;  to  handle  with  reverence 
the  contents  of  drawers  and  trunks,  and  whisper  to  each  other 
over  them.  The  utmost  order  and  neatness  prevailed  through 
all.  One  thing  I  could  not  fail  to  observe  incidentally — the 
absence  of  any  souvenir,  any  relic  whatever  of  her  life  prior  to 
her  domestication  in  our  family.  There  was  not  a  single  dried 


M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  K  .  363 

flower  ;  not  a  lock  from  "  Maggie's  "  alabaster  temples  ;  none  of 
darker  hue  ami  firmer  curl ;  no  jealously-treasured  miniature  - 
and  what  was  especially  remarkable,  not  one  letter  or  even  note 
In  her  private  life  she  had  rigidly  maintained  the  anchorite  sim 
plicity  that  characterized  her  conduct  in  her  social  relations 
4s  she  had  lived,  so  had  she  died,  leaving  but  floating  thread 
Upon  which  curiosity  could  fasten  as  possible  clues  to  a  history  I 
felt  was  fraught  with  tragical  interest.  In  one  drawer— thi 
only  locked  one — were  a  linen  shroud  and  a  burial-cap,  yellow 
with  time,  deposited  there,  no  one  could  say  when,  wrought  by 
her  hands  and  designed  for  herself.  They  were  sprinkled  by  the 
salt  drops  that  gushed  up  at  the  thought  of  her  preparation,  by 
strangers,  for  the  dreamless  rest  in  a  stranger-grave.  We 
packed  everything  away,  as  she  would  have  wished  to  have  it 
done  ;  transferred  some  articles  of  furniture  to  other  parts  of 
the  house,  and  made  all  practicable  changes  in  the  disposition 
of  what  remained  in  this  apartment.  My  father  would  have  no 
locked  doors,  no  haunted  chambers  beneath  his  roof. 

"  Such  spots,  although  sacred  to  the  holiest  of  sorrows,"  he 
said  to  me,  "  and  made  the  occasion  of  pious  and  loving  pilgrim- 
ages, if  dutifully  frequented,  often,  in  the  end,  lose  their  charm. 
If  unvisited,  they  are  too  apt  to  be  avoided,  by  and  by,  with 
superstitious  dread,  and  come  to  be  invested  v/ith  all  manner  of 
foolish  terrors.  We  need  no  appeals  to  our  senses  to  keep  alive 
the  memory  of  her  who  is  gone." 

That  afternoon,  he  sent  for  me  to  the  honeysuckled  arbor  at 
i lie  foot  of  the  garden,  and  related  the  story  of  the  skeleton  it 
•u;  home. 

The  introductory  portions  of  the  narration  were  known  to  me 
In  part ;  the  description  of  the  abode  in  which  he  was  born, 
where  Maggie  was  married,  the  dissimilarity  of  the  sisters,  their 
leader  affection,  and  the  death  of  the  elder. 

"  I  was  the  oldest  of  the  four,"  he  proceeded,  "  and  when 


364  M  o  a  8  -  s  i  D  E 

Maggie  died,  had  been  at  the  head  of  a  family  for  several  years 
flut  as  I  was  settled  at  a  convenient  distance  from  the  horn* 
Btead,  the  household  bond  seemed  to  remain  intact.  Agnes  wan 
a  wild,  undisciplined  girl  of  sixteen,  who  gave  promise  of  de- 
cided beauty  of  a  certain  order.  Vivacious  and  high-spirited, 
she  was  my  favorite  sister,  endearing  as  were  Maggie's  feminine 
rirtues.  She  returned  my  partiality  with  all  the  warmth  of  her 
ardent  temperament.  My  influence  over  her  exceeded  that  of 
her  parents,  or  even  of  the  sister  she  well-nigh  worshipped.  We 
could  not  foresee  how  soon  she  would  be  obliged  to  depend  upon 
me  as  her  sole  guardian,  but  our  attachment  grew  stronger,  as 
she  neared  womanhood.  My  brother,  Frederic,  was  of  a  roving 
disposition,  and  obtained  a  commission  in  the  navy.  His  going 
was  the  next  severed  link  in  our  chain.  A  year  later,  our  father 
died,  and  the  grass  was  not  rooted  upon  his  grave,  when  our 
mother  joined  him.  I  removed  to  the  old  place,  and  Agnes 
lived  with  us.  I  have  intimated  that  she  was  independent.  She, 
was  more,  proud  and  imperious,  if  her  will  was  crossed  ;  impas- 
sioned in  every  feeling.  To  control  her  by  severity  was  out  of 
the  question,  but  if  love  were  the  ruling  power,  she  was  all  sub- 
mission. She  manifested  a  taste  for  learning  unusual  iu  one  of 
her  age  and  sex,  and  mine  had  long  been  the  care  of  appointing 
her  teachers,  and  to  some  extent,  her  studies.  She  had  been  a 
resident  of  my  house  but  a  little  while  when,  in  an  evil  hour,  I 
was  persuaded  to  send  her  to  a  seminary  of  note  in  New  Orleans. 
Mine  was  the  first  false  step." 

He  passed  his  hand  over  his  brow,  as  if  he  felt  the  clcud  that 
was  gathering  there. 

"  She  was  gay,  romantic,  susceptible,  and  was  just  completing 
her  eighteenth  year.  She  could  not  be  considered  a  school-girl, 
and  the  accomplished  French  principal  offered  to  admit  her  into 
the  establishment  with  the  privileges  of  a  parlor  boarder.  Tc 
tfiis  I  acceded,  without  a  thought  of  what  was  implied  by  thii 


M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  E  .  36.* 

ambiguous  phrase,  except  that  the  spoiled  child  would  not  be 
subjected  to  the  rigor  of  school-room  government,  and  wonld 
have  less  reason  to  pine  for  the  freedom  of  her  country  life.  Shn 
was  too  brave  and  sanguine  to  mope  in  homesickness,  or  sbiu> 
the  labors  and  privations  of  a  student's  lot,  and  although  she 
wept  at  our  parting,  there  was  sunshine  mingled  with  the  shower. 
Throughout  the  winter,  her  letters  denoted  more  than  content- 
ment— active  enjoyment  in  her  situation.  Her  studies,  her 
mates,  the  kindness  of  her  instructors,  the  peeps  at  society  Ma- 
dame Duplanche  sanctioned  by  her  personal  chaperonage,  were 
prolific  themes  for  her  pen,  while  unabated  love  for  the  dear  and 
distant  ones  ran  through  every  epistle  and  attracted  us  the  more 
nearly  to  her. 

"  Without  warning,  the  other  side  of  the  picture  was  exhi- 
bited to  me.  It  was  during  a  brief  but  dangerous  illness  of  your 
mother's  that  a  letter  came  from  Madame  Duplanche,  such  an 
one  as  a  Frenchwoman  alone  can  write.  With  infinite  caution 
and  tact,  and  a  multitude  of  apologies,  she  informed  me  of  her 
misgivings  with  regard  to  my  sister's  acquaintance  with  a  visi- 
tant at  her  house,  Julian  Darford  by  name,  '  a  young  gentleman 
of  unblemished  character,'  she  said,  '  if  we  may  believe  his  cre- 
dentials and  the  testimony  of  his  demeanor  since  he  has  been 
an  inhabitant  of  this  city  ;  well-bred,  prepossessing  in  person 
and  address.  I  do  not  marvel  that  he  has  captivated  the  ima- 
gination of  Miss  Agnes,  whose  tastes  are  highly  cultivated,  and 
whose  appreciation  of  the  beautiful  and  noble  is  so  acute  ;  yet 
I  conceive  it  to  be  my  duty  to  confide  to  you  my  views  of  the 
existing  state  of  affairs,  and  leave  it  to  you  to  interfere  or  tot, 
•a  you  may,  in  your  superior  judgment,  think  advisable.' 

"  Uncertain  as  was  this  information,  for  not  an  incident  was 
mentioned  as  a  support  to  her  suspicions,  save  Mr.  Darford's 
'prepossessing'  appearance  and  Agnes'  lively  imagination— it 
worked  me  up  to  an  intolerable  pitch  of  uneasiness.  I  could  not 


366  MOSS-SIDE. 

go  myself  to  tear  my  sister  away  from  temptation,  for  iny  wife's 
condition  forbade  my  absence  from  her  sick-bed.  Nor,  for  the 
same  reason,  could  I  confer  with  her  who  had  ever  proved  her- 
self my  best  counsellor.  Had  my  measures  been  tempered  b) 
her  judicious  forbearance,  the  result  might  have  varied  widely 
from  what  I  am  about  to  tell  you.  Upon  the  spur  of  the  mo- 
tnent,  distracted  by  anxiety  for  the  two,  who  equally,  but  from 
different  causes,  required  my  services  ;  driven  on  by  the  emer- 
gency I  had  brought  myself  to  believe  was  already  upon  us,  I 
wrote  to  the  principal  and  to  Agnes.  Madame,  I  thanked  for 
her  prompt  notice  to  myself,  while  I  animadverted  as  plainly  as 
I  dared  speak  to  a  lady,  upon  the  laxity  of  rules  which  had  made 
Buch  a  course  necessary.  I  urged  her  not  to  intermit  her  watch- 
fulness, and  authorized  her  to  break  off  the  ominous  intercourse 
without  delay  or  explanation,  other  than  that  she  had  my  war- 
rant for  the  proceeding  ;  promising  to  be  in  New  Orleans  so 
soon  as  the  crisis  of  my  wife's  illness  had  passed,  and  release  her 
from  further  responsibility  by  an  examination  of  the  case  and 
corresponding  action  on  my  part.  The  communication  to  Agnes 
was  more  lengthy,  and,  I  fear,  more  stern.  It  was  a  tone  I  had 
seldom  employed  towards  her,  and  second  thoughts  would  have 
convinced  me  that  it  was  impolitic  and  dangerous  now  ;  but  my 
excitement  precluded  mature  deliberation.  I  told  her  of  our 
love,  it  is  true,  but  it  was  in  reproach — to  shame,  not  entice  her 
back  to  the  path  of  duty.  I  was  harsh,  Grace,  but  I  meant 
well,  my  child,  and  I  have  been  sorely  punished." 

"  Few  men  would  have  adopted  any  other  line  of  conduct, 
dear  father  1"  I  kissed  his  trembling  hand,  and  again,  crossing 
my  arms  upon  his  knee,  as  I  sat  at  his  feet,  waited  breathlessly 
'or  more. 

"  And  you  might  add  that  there  is  no  woman  living  deserving 
of  the  name,  who  would  not  have  showed  more  mercy  to  a  cul- 
prit so  young  an<?  beloved  ;  whose  offence,  for  all  the  evidence  1 


M  O  8  8  -  8  I  P  E  .  367 

had  to  the  contrary,  was  merely  suppositional,  and  might  prove 
eventually  to  be  the  figment  of  madame's  brain.  I  ooucludcd 
this  letter  as  I  had  done  the  other,  by  a  peremptory  command 
for  the  dismissal  of  this  Darford,  let  his  pretensions  be  what 
they  might,  and  a  threat  of  removal  from  his  vicinity,  should  I 
discover  that  she  had,  in  opposition  to  my  known  wishes,  in  vio- 
ation  of  her  word,  been  so  imprudent  as  to  contract  a  clandes- 
tine engagement  with  him. 

"  No  sooner  were  the  intemperate  missives  posted,  than  A 
repented  of  my  rashness.  Through  a  sleepless  night,  merciful 
spirits  were  striving  with  my  Spartan  notions  of  duty.  My  heart 
yearned  over  the  wayward  creature,  who,  with  ail  her  faults, 
loved  me,  and  in  times  past,  would  have  laid  down  her  life  for 
me.  What  irritating  goads  would  my  angry  words  be  to  her  1 
what  was  not  to  be  feared  from  the  effect  of  their  wounds  to 
her  sensitive,  haughty  spirit  ?  The  next  post  bore  an  emollient 
for  these  ;  a  retraction  of  all  that  was  cruel  in  the  preceding 
epistle.  I  represented  the  circumstances  under  which  it  was 
penned,  and  attributing  my  undue  warmth  to  the  depth  of  my 
affection  for  her,  entreated  her  to  trust  implicitly  in  that;  to  un- 
bosom herself  to  the  brother  who  had  always  been  an  indulgent 
listener  to  her  every  plea,  and  who  now  pledged  himself  not  to 
stand  in  the  way  of  her  happiness,  if  it  should  appear  that  this 
would  be  promoted  by  a  union  with  the  man  of  her  choice.  But 
we  lived  in  the  heart  of  the  country,  where  mails  were  slow  and 
unreliable.  Before  the  answer  to  either  of  the  letters  came  to 
hand,  your  mother  had  safely  passed  the  turning-point  of  her 
malady,  and  was  so  far  convalescent  as  to  participate  in  my 
'ears  and  hopes  respecting  the  issue  of  this  important  matter. 
I  was  thankful  that  I  was  not  with  her  when  Madame  Du- 
planchd's  reply  arrived.  My  worst  anticipations  had  not  fore- 
shadowed the  whole  extent  of  the  affliction  which,  I  learned 
from  this,  had  befallen  us.  Alarmed  into  an  approach  to  sincer 


868  M088-8IDE. 

ity,  the  instructress  wrote  without  circumlocution,  of  my  sister1! 
elopement  with  her  lover,  immediately  after  the  receipt  of  mj 
menacing  letter.  Not  sorry  to  have  an  opportunity  of  retalia 
tion  for  ray  strictures  upon  her  faulty  discipline,  the  lady  intro- 
duced a  regret  that  I  had  been  so  hasty  ;  since  dread  of  my 
•nger  had  undoubtedly  'precipitated  the  denouement  she  was 
rare  might  have  been  averted  by  dexterous  maneuvering.' 

"  These  reflections  from  her  fell  light  as  straws  upon  my  writh- 
ing soul.  My  idolized  sister  was  gone — I  knew  not  whither  , 
had  fled  from  me  to  the  embrace  of  an  unprincipled  stranger — 
for  in  what  esteem  must  I  regard  the  man  who  had  tempted  her 
from  rectitude,  had  taught  her  forgetfulness  of  duty,  gratitude, 
Belf-respect  ?  Madame  Duplanch6  was  minute  in  her  description 
of  the  '  melancholy  event.'  They  had,  according  to  her  show- 
ing, outgeneralled  her  by  consummate  artifice  ;  had  escaped  un- 
challenged aad  unsuspected,  and  succeeded  in  concealing  every 
trace  of  their  route.  Consideration  for  the  feelings  of  the  un- 
happy girl's  relatives,  more  than  jealousy  for  the  reputation  of  her 
school,  had,  she  stated,  induced  her  to  circulate  the  report  that 
the  missing  pupil  had  been  withdrawn  from  the  institution  by 
her  brother,  and  was  now  under  his  protection.  '  No  scandal  has 
been  excited  by  her  disappearance,'  she  wrote.  '  I  flatter  my- 
self that  my  ruse  will  meet  with  your  unqualified  approbation.' 

"  Until  definite  intelligence  of  the  wanderer's  movements 
should  be  obtained,  your  mother  agreed  with  me  in  thinking  that 
we  had  best  imitate  the  secrecy  of  the  discreet  teacher.  The.rc 
were  days  of  suppressed  mourning  and  weary  waiting — and  a  law- 
yer's letter  was  forwarded  from  New  Orleans,  inclosing  a  copy  of 
the  marriage  certificate  o/  Agnes  Leigh  and  Julian  Darford,  coo- 
pled  with  a  legal  demand  for  the  surrender  of  the  property  I  held 
in  trust  as  the  guardian  of  the  said  Agnes.  The  claim  was  pre- 
sented by  authority  of  her  husband.  It  was  lawful,  and  had  ther« 
been  room  for  quibbling,  I  would  not  have  attempted  resistance 


MOBS-SIDE.  369 

With  considerable  i& convenience  and  sacrifice  of  my  own  inte- 
rests, I  raised  the  just  amount,  every  cent  of  my  sister's  patri 
mony,  and  made  it  over  to  the  creditor,  through  his  agent,  i 
did  not  inquire  where  the  wedded  pair  had  fixed  their  residence  ; 
made  no  effort  to  renew  my  correspondence  with  one  who  had  so 
easily  renounced  the  ties  of  blood  and  feeling.  The  transaction 
was  strictly  one  of  business  on  both  sides,  and  with  it  ceased  my 
attempts  to  seek  her — my  hopes  of  reconciliation. 

"  One  moonlight  evening,  six  months  after  the  elopement,  yoar 
mother  and  myself  were  sitting  in  our  chamber  at  the  jessamine- 
covered  window,  of  which  you  say  your  aunt  talked  to  May  and 
yourself.  I  was  gloomy,  and  her  pensiveness  was  in  sympathy. 
We  were  thinking  of  the  lost  bird  ;  our  hearts  aching  for  the 
sound  of  her  voice  in  laughter  or  in  song  ;  the  music  that  once 
was  never  wanting  in  the  old  mansion.  We  had  not  spoken  fo" 
some  time  ;  her  name  had  not  been  mentioned  ;  yet  when  my 
wife  laid  her  hand  in  mine,  and  lifted  her  eyes,  so  eloquent  of 
grieving  love,  I  divined  what  were  her  thoughts. 

"  '  There  is  no  hope  of  her  return,'  she  said.  '  What  good  can 
accrue  from  further  concealment  ?' 

"  '  What  good  can  accrue  from  a  gratuitous  proclamation  of 
our  shame  ?'  I  returned,  surlily. 

"  '  Not  "  shame  1"  do  not  say  that !  We  can  never  be  dis- 
graced but  by  guilt,  and  that  our  own.  Our  poor  girl  has  been 
beguiled  into  error,  but  not  such  as  would,  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world,  fix  a  stigma  upon  our  name.  Are  we  not  incurring  the 
risk  we  dread  by  not  letting  the  truth  be  known  ?  What  would 
be  said  if  it  should  become  public  by  other  means  than  our  con- 
fession ?  I  am  tired  of  evasions.  I  would  feel  less  degradation 
In  declaring  that  our  sister  has  married  without  our  consent  and 
—deserted  us  entirely.' 

"  Her  voice  trembled  in  pronouncing  the  closing  words  •,  but 
like  the  resolute  woman  she  was,  she  Had  opened  her  mind  whe* 
16* 


370  MOSS-SIDE. 

Duty  pointed  out  the  impropriety  of  silence.  I  felt  that  ahe  was 
in  the  right ;  still  it  was  unpalatable  counsel.  I  was  tenacious 
of  the  family  honcr.  It  galled  me  to  think  how  men  would  com- 
ment upon  the  marriage  of  a  Leigh  with  an  adventurer — a  no- 
body— perhaps  a  scoundrel,  else  why  this  obstinate  reserve  sow 
that  marriage  had  made  his  prize  secure  ?  Of  these,  and  a  host 
jf  like  wormwood  ideas,  I  delivered  myself  aloud,  as  I  paced  the 
room,  chafed  and  wounded.  At  the  height  of  the  fever,  I  waa 
interrupted  by  a  servant  with  a  letter  from  the  post-office.  A 
light  was  procured,  and  I  saw,  with  indescribable  emotion,  my 
sister's  handwriting.  The  date  was  Havana  (Cuba),  and  the 
characters  were  sometimes  nearly  illegible,  as  if  dashed  upon  the 
•  sheet  in  the  utmost  agitation.  Whence  I  drew  the  strength  that 
sustained  me  to  the  conclusion,  I  never  understood.  It  was  a 
dark,  terrible  tale. 

"  Infatuated  by  an  idolatrous  devotion  to  her  lover  ;  terrified 
by  the  construction  he  put  upon  my  misjudged  harshness;  in  im- 
minent peril  from  Madame  Duplanche's  immediate  exercise  of  the 
power  I  had  delegated  to  her — an  authority  that  would  cause  a 
separation  to  which  she  would  have  preferred  death — Agnes  had 
escaped  from  confinement  to  the  liberty  of  a  love  that  was  then 
worth  more  than  all  the  world  beside.  The  marriage  ceremony 
was  performed  the  hour  she  became  free  ;  the  honeymoon  was 
spent  in  a  suburban  village,  until  Mr.  Darford  could  settle  some 
business  that  detained  him  in  the  vicinity  of  New  Orleans.  Dur- 
ing this  month,  she  wrote  repeatedly  to  me  ;  at  first,  conjointly 
with  her  husband,  and  when  these  petitions  for  forgiveness  and 
a  return  to  favor  were  unnoticed — long  letters  with  her  own  hand, 
blistered  with  tears  and  breathing  the  humblest  penitence.  They 
sailed  for  the  island-home  he  had  so  often  painted  to  her  imagi- 
nation ;  she,  thoroughly  converted  to  his  representation  that  1 
had  cast  her  off,  and  clinging,  with  all  the  fervor  of  her  trusting, 
ardent  nature  to  the  only  prop,  the  only  shelter  sh<>  bad  upon  earth 


MOSS-SIDE.  371 

"  The  awakening  from  her  rapt  vision  was  gradual,  for  hei 
love  was  too  blind  to  discern  trifles,  too  perfect  for  jealousy 
She  was  chilled  by  absences  that  left  her  alone  the  greater  part 
of  the  day  and  night ;  bewildered,  and  at  times  shocked,  by  the 
revelations  chance  and  his  carelessness  made  to  her  of  bacchana- 
lian orgies  and  infidel  principles  ;  but  at  one  caress,  one  accent 
of  fondness,  she  forgot  whatever  she  could  not  understand,  and 
relied  upon  him  with  the  same  unquestioning  faith.  He  had  an 
associate,  inseparable  as  his  shadow,  who  had  assisted  in  hia 
courtship  and  been  a  witness  of  his  marriage  ;  a  bold  swaggerer, 
from  whom  the  young  wife  recoiled  in  disgust  and  wonder  that  a 
man  of  so  much  refinement  of  breeding,  such  nicety  of  sentiment 
as  her  lord,  could  tolerate,  nay,  encourage  his  familiarity.  She 
was  unused  to  concealing  her  dislikes,  and  this  antipathy  was 
obvious  to  its  object  as  to  his  boon  companion.  The  latter  tried 
to  laugh  and  argue  her  out  of  it  ;  the  former  laid  a  subtle  plot 
of  revenge.  Before  it  was  quite  ripe,  its  execution  was  hastened 
by  a  quarrel  between  the  two  men,  over  the  card-table.  Oaths, 
even  blows  were  exchanged,  and  they  were,  with  difficulty, 
parted.  Darford's  brain,  in  cooling  and  clearing,  realized  the 
danger  in  which  he  stood.  He  sought  his  sulky  antagonist,  apo- 
logized, and  a  hollow  peace  was  patched  up.  That  evening, 
while  his  friend  and  host  was  at  a  wine-party,  the  serpent  craved 
an  audience  of  the  lonely  wife,  and  betrayed  the  nefarious  de- 
ception which  had  been  practised  upon  her." 

It  was  heart-rending  to  see  my  father's  shrinking  from  what  was 
now  to  be  revealed  ;  his  lingering  upon  every  petty  incident ; 
stopping  to  weigh  each  sentence,  to  put  off  the  moment  that  would 
bring  the  utterance  of  what,  after  the  lapse  of  so  many  years,  i 
fax  ked  his  soul  to  say. 

'  Dearest  father  !"  I  expostulated,  "  this  is  too  heavy  a  trial 
Do  not  tell  me  more,  now  at  least.  I  cannot  see  you  suffer  so  I" 

" '  Suffer  I'  I  should  have  become  inured  to  it  by  this.     If  t-hf 


372  1C  O  S  8  -  8  I  D  X  . 

syllables  were  so  many  drops  of  life-blood,  I  ought  not  to  stof 
here.     You  must  know  all.     I  owe  it  to  you,  my  daughter." 

"  How  '  owe '  it  ?"  1  would  have  asked  ;  but  his  pallid  Hpi 
were  regaining  firmness  to  proceed. 

"  Grace !  do  you  think  it  strange  that  she  went  mad  at  hear 
lug — that  I  was  frantic  when  I  read  that  she  was  not  the  wife 
of  the  man  she  called  husband  ?" 

"  Father  !"  I  ejaculated  in  horror. 

Globules  of  sweat  rolled  down  his  face  ;  his  fingers  clenched  my 
wrist  until  the  flesh  was  blue  beneath  them.  Yet  be  could  speak 
with  hoarse  distinctness. 

"  Not  his  wife  !  To  another,  a  deceived  and  deserted  woman, 
dying  of  a  broken  heart  in  her  native  New  England  village,  be- 
longed that  title.  The  name  under  which  he  had  wooed  and 
wedded  this  second  victim,  was  false  as  his  black  heart.  He  was 
of  Northern  birth,  and  had,  in  boyhood,  fallen  into  evil  company 
and  vicious  habits  ;  while  at  college  had  been  guilty  of  a  gross 
outrage  upon  the  authorities  and  the  community,  and  had  run 
away  to  avoid  punishment.  Burnet,  for  this  was  the  present 
alias  to  which  his  treacherous  accomplice  answered — was  his  co- 
mate  in  the  scrape,  and  the  partnership  in  crime  had  never  been 
dissolved.  Together  they  had  led  a  roving  career  ;  living  by 
various,  generally  disreputable  means,  but  always  contriving  to 
maintain  the  style  of  gentlemen.  A  lottery-prize  had  furnished 
the  funds  for  a  luxurious  summer  sojourn  in  a  picturesque  town 
in  Connecticut,  where  Darford  laid  suit  and  successfully  to  a  pro- 
rincial  heiress,  an  orphan  ;  marned  her  with  the  approval  of  her 
friends,  and  set  up  a  handsome  establishment.  But  good  fortune 
lad  not  reformed  him.  He  tired  of  his  monotonous  existence  and 
the  unpretending  woman  who  had  so  generously  linked  her  lot  with 
fas.  Collecting,  into  a  portable  form,  all  of  her  property  which 
he  had  not  squandered,  he  ibandoned  her  and  his  child,  an  in- 
fant a  year  old,  and  sailed  Southward.  In  New  Orleans,  thf 


M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  E  .  873 

confederates  found  a  suitable  theatre  for  the  exhibition  of  theb 
talents,  and  they  selected  that  city  as  their  head-quarters.  Th« 
aighest  and  the  lowest  phases  of  its  society  were  alike  known  t« 
them,  and  they  were  here,  of  all  other  places,  least  liable  to  ex- 
posure. An  introduction  to  Madame  Duplanche'  was  employee 
by  Darford  as  the  key  tc  her  very  select  circle  of  parlor-visitors 
Agnes'  beauty  pleased  his  eye,  and  an  exaggerated  report  of  hei 
wealth  tempted  him  tc  pay  serious  court  to  her. 

"This  was  the  story  poured,  like  boiling  lead,  into  the  ears  of 
the  miserable  girl  by  the  wretch  who  exulted  in  her  distraction. 
He  heaped  up  the  measure  of  his  insults  by  proposing  that  she 
ehould  fly  with  him  from  her  betrayer,  who,  he  more  than  hint- 
ed, was  weary  of  her  love,  and  meditating  a  re-commencement 
of  his  travels.  She  drove  the  brutal  fellow  from  her  presence 
with  a  torrent  of  fiery  indignation,  and  while  the  fury  still  pos- 
sessed her,  began  her  letter  to  me.  Burnet  had  told  her  of  the 
manner  in  which  the  preceding  ones  had  been  intercepted  and 
destroyed  by  Darford.  A  few  burning  lines  of  wild  supplication 
— and  she  bethought  herself  of  the  character  of  the  author  of 
the  recital  that  had  maddened  her.  By  his  own  confession,  he 
was  a  lying  hypocrite  ;  his  recent  act  proved  him  a  traitor. 
Was  he  entitled  to  credit  ?  She  would  ferret  out  other  proof. 
Burnet  had  not  overlooked  the  possibility  of  this  reaction.  A 
little  while  after  he  had  been  expelled  from  her  apartment,  he 
sent  in  to  her  a  bundle  of  letters  and  other  documents,  abstract- 
ed from  Darford's  escritoir.  They  bore  various  addresses  ;  the 
names  she  had  heard  as  those  by  which  the  adventurer  had 
passed  in  different  places,  and  their  contents  were  abundant 
Krafirmation  of  Burnet's  disclosure.  The  most  blasting  sight 
&as  the  certificate  of  marriage  with  his  real  wife,  side  by  side 
with  the  worthless  paper,  wnose  duplicate  had  been  used  to  ob- 
tain what  was  his  end  in  espousing  her — her  money.  She  secret- 
ed the  packet,  and  in  the  most  fearful  vigil  'hat  woman  eve' 


574  MOSS-SIDE. 

kept,  finished  her  appeal  to  me,  the  brother  she  yet  loved 
Death  or  delh  erance  were  the  alternatives  to  her  mind.  A  lift 
of  ignominy  she  could  not  support.  She  would  not  survive  to 
?ee  herself  and  be  known  of  the  world  as  his  repudiated  wife 
In  this  deep  of  humiliation  she  would  write  no  other  term,  a' 
though  the  italics  imparted  to  it  a  terrible  irony. 

"  '  I  am  being  stung  to  death  by  scorpions,'  she  said.  '  If  you 
hfevr  one  spark  of  love  or  pity  for  the  ruined  thing  I  am,  come 
and  release  me.' 

"  She  engaged  to  join  me  at  any  time  I  should  appoint,  at  a 
hotel  in  Havana  ;  for  I  must  not  come  in  contact  with  Darford. 
This  was  reiterated  most  strongly.  The  letter  she  would  intrust 
to  a  poor  neighbor,  her  washerwoman,  whose  fidelity  she  had 
bought  by  some  act  of  kindness,  and  to  her  care  must  my  answer 
be  directed. 

"  I  did  not  wait  for  daylight.  Midnight  saw  me  on  my  jour- 
ney, as  bent  upon  vengeance  as  she  was  upon  escape.  My  wife's 
tears  were  ineffectual  to  melt  my  purpose.  I  had  not  vowed  it 
to  her,  but  she  knew  me  too  well  to  pray  with  any  hope,  that  it 
would  suffice  me  to  break  the  net  of  the  captive.  I  returned  no 
written  reply  to  Agnes.  I  was  in  Havana  sooner  than  it  could 
have  been  delivered  to  her.  It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when 
I  landed,  and  going  to  &  hotel,  I  engaged  lodgings  for  myself 
and  a  lady.  Armed  to  resist  any  violence,  I  stepped  into  a  car 
riage  and  was  rapidly  whirled  through  the  streets  to  the  obscure 
dwelling  of  the  humble  friend  whose  address  my  sister  had  giveu 
me.  She  instructed  me  as  to  the  locality  of  Mr.  Darford's  resi- 
letce.  It  was  a  tasteful  villa,  the  beauty  of  whose  architecture 
tad  grounds  was  perceptible,  dark  as  it  was  whe^  I  alighted  at 
Uie  gate.  I  gnashed  my  teeth  when  I  thought  who  had  pur 
Ceased  this  luxury  for  its  nominal  proprietor,  ai.d  at  what  cost — 
the  wreck  of  happiness  and  honor.  Threading  the  labyrinthin* 
walks  to  the  door,  I  rang  and  inquired  of  the  footman  if  hii 


MOSS-SIDE.  375 

mistress  were  at  home.     With  unblushing  assurance,  lie  -eplied 
that  she  was  not 

"  '  Very  well  I  I  will  wait  until  she  returns,  and  I  pushed  bj 
him  into  the  house. 

"He  stared,  and  would  have  grown  abusive,  but  for  a  timelj 
Iwibe  which  I  slipped  into  his  hand,  as  I  repeated  iny  inquiry 
I  woe  anxious  to  bear  away  the  unhappy  woman  quietly,  if  pos- 
sible My  entrance  was  effected  ;  the  next  move  was  to  see  her 
alone  Scribbling  a  line  upon  my  card,  I  asked  the  man  to  take 
it  up  to  her  chamber,  and  if  he  were  correct  in  his  belief  of  her 
absence,  to  bring  it  down  again.  The  menial  of  such  a  master 
could  not  be  incorruptible,  and  he  departed  with  a  knowing 
wink  that  was  a  harbinger  of  success. 

"  Flying  feet  came  down  the  stairs  and  along  the  passages, 
and  my  poor,  erring  child  was  in  my  arms,  panting  and  shiver- 
ing like  a  hunted  partridge.  I  should  hardly  have  known  her 
for  the  bright-winged  warbler  she  had  been  in  the  parent  nest. 
She  was  weak  and  thin,  for  neither  food  nor  rest  had  been  hers, 
since  she  had  discovered  how  foully  she  had  been  wronged  ;  and 
the  large,  black  eyes  were  bloodshot  and  glaring  as  a  maniac's. 
I  could  weep,  but  she  had  no  tears.  Their  fount  was  dried  for 
ever. 

" '  Take  me  away  before  he  comes  home  !'  was  all  her  cry. 

" '  I  will,'  I  said.  '  What  do  yon  require  to  make  you  ready 
to  go  ?  a  veil — a  mantle  ?' 

"  She  quitted  me  for  a  moment,  and  re-appeared,  wrapped  in 
t  scarf. 

"  '  Take  nothing  which  you  can  leave,'  I  ordered.  '  No  trin- 
kets 1  no  money  !" 

'"I  have  none  I'  was  her  response. 

"  She  wore  a  plain  morning  dress,  with  no  ornaments,  and  thai 
upparelled,  totally  dependent  upon  me,  she  turned  her  back 
upon  the  habitation  where  she  had  quaffed  Lift's  sweetest  joy^ 


376  M088-8IDE. 

Sorrow's  bitterest  dregs.  I  conducted  her  to  her  chamber  at 
the  hotel,  and  told  her  that  she  was  safe.  Then,  for  the  unset- 
tled light  of  her  eye,  her  fitful  starts  and  incoherent  mutterings 
made  me  uneasy  for  her  reason,  I  pillowed  her  head  upon  mj 
bosom  and  welcomed  her  to  my  love  ;  painted  the  leunion  it 
Drospect  when  we  should  once  more  see  the  dear  home  of  us  all 
would  have  bestowed  the  kiss  and  blessing  your  mother  had 
lent  to  her.  She  avoided  the  salute.  '  It  is  too  pure  1'  said 
•he,  brokenly.  '  She  is  your  wife  !' 

" '  Sister  is  as  holy  a  name,'  I  returned. 

"  I  have  forfeited  that  from  you  1"  she  moaned.  "  Oh  !  why 
d<?  I  not  die  ?" 

n  Affectionately  I  contended  with  these  self-accusations.  I 
showed  her  how,  by  a  providential  inspiration,  as  it  were,  we 
had  refrained  from  divulging  her  secret  to  any  one  out  of  our 
household  ;  that  to  her  schoolmates  her  flight  was  unknown  ; 
her  character  was  stainless  to  others  as  to  us  who  were  acquainted 
with  the  particulars  of  her  misfortune.  She  was  more  composed 
as  these  consolations  were  applied.  Her  pride  was  spared — one 
of  the  ruling  elements  of  her  being.  Despise  herself  as  she 
might,  the  finger  of  public  scorn  would  not  point  to  a  spotted 
fame,  or  pity,  yet  more  humbling,  grieve  over  her  fall. 

" '  1  will  go  with  you  wherever  you  please  to  carry  me,'  she 
consented  ;  '  only  do  not  let  us  stay  here  a  single  hour  The 
air  of  this  place  is  killing  me  !  I  cannot  breathe  in  it  1' 

"  I  explained  the  impossibility  of  starting  before  the  morrow, 
and  begged  her,  for  my  sake,  and  if  she  desired  to  expedite  oui 
progress,  to  lie  down  and  snatch  a  little  sleep.  She  objected 
that  she  was  too  much  excited  to  rest,  but  at  last  suffered  me  to 
place  her  upon  the  bed. 

" '  Now  I  must  leave  you,'  I  said. 

"  '  Whore  are  you  going  ?  for  what  ?'  She  sprang  up  and 
seized  me  by  the  arm. 


*  O  8  B  -  B  :  1)  K  .  O?7 

"'To  my  room,  to  get  all  ready  for  an  early  start,7  I  replied, 
m  feigned  surprise.  'Where  else  should  I  go  at  this  hour? 
Moreover,  I  am  t'atigued,  and  if  I  am  to  journey  again  so 
Boon ' 

"  She  fell  back,  deceived,  aud  ashamed  of  her  fright  '  Go' 
gol'  she  said.  'It  is  all  ri^ht.  I  am  very  foolish  !  For-jiv: 
met' 

"  I  did  not  require  a  second  bidding." 


H78  MOSS-HID!*. 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

*•  THERE  was  much  to  be  done  by  morning  ;  but  my  jnara 
were  definite,  and  were  prosecuted  without  delay.  I  went,  as  I 
had  promised,  to  my  chamber,  though  not  to  sleep.  I  had  but 
one  acquaintance  in  Havana,  an  American  merchant,  who  had 
been  a  schoolfellow,  and  upon  whose  friendship  and  honor  I 
could  safely  depend.  To  him,  I  wrote,  asking  him  to  call  imme- 
diately at  my  lodgings,  as  the  business  in  which  I  wished  his  aid 
involved  life  or  death.  If  he  were  not  in  the  city,  it  was  my 
purpose  to  leave  upon  my  table  a  letter  to  the  United  State* 
consul,  commending  my  sister  to  his  care,  with  the  means  of 
defraying  the  expenses  of  her  journey  to  Alabama.  This  would 
be  attended  with  more  publicity  than  was  desirable,  however 
much  heed  he  might  pay  to  my  injunction  of  secrecy  ;  therefore, 
was  only  to  be  entertained  as  a  dernier  ressort.  The  expediency 
of  foregoing  my  sanguinary  designs  never  presented  itself  to  my 
thoughts.  Blood  alone  was  the  bath  for  wounded  honor,  and 
while  cherishing  the  full  intent  to  wash  out  in  Parford's,  the  blot 
upon  our  name,  I  was,  to  myself,  and  according  to  the  code  I  had 
been  trained  to  respect,  a  righteous  avenger,  bravely,  lawfully 
defending  the  cause  of  the  injured ;  helping  to  sustain  the  bul- 
warks of  morality.  If  I  left  my  wife  a  widow,  my  children 
orphans,  upon  his  soul  would  rest  the  crime  of  having  produced 
their  desolation,  as  well  as  my  murder.  To  them,  I  should 
bequeath  an  unsullied  reputation  and  the  memory  of  a  deatk 
not  less  glorious  thau  that  of  the  soldier  who  dies  Sghtiug  foi 
liberty  and  truth. 


MOBS-SIDE.  379 

"  These  ideas  flitted  before  me  as  I  folded  my  note  ;  but  1 
did  not  look  forward  to  this  result  of  the  hostile  meetbg  I  had 
determined  should  take  place.  A  superstition,  borrowed  from 
the  feudal  ages,  nerved  and  balanced  my  mind  as  effectually  as 
a  principle  of  moral  right  would  have  done. 

"  '  Heaven  defends  the  right !'  I  said,  unlocking  the  door,  and 
etting  my  hat  upon  my  head.  '  I  shall  not  die  by  a  dastard  hand. 

"  I  was  in  quest  of  a  waiter  who  could  be  trusted  with  the 
instant  delivery  of  my  letter,  and  had  to  pass  through  the  bril- 
liantly-lighted saloon  on  the  first  floor.  A  number  of  loungers 
were  there,  smoking,  drinking,  and  strolling  about.  I  noticed 
none  of  them  until  a  smart  slap  on  my  shoulder,  and  a  voice, 
familiar  as  my  own,  turned  me  face  to  face  with  the  last  person 
I  expected  to  meet  there  and  then — my  sailor-brother,  Frederic  1 
A  greeting  from  the  other  world  would  not  have  astounded  me 
more  than  did  his  hail  : 

"  '  Archie  1  old  fellow  !  how  goes  it  ?' 

"  Without  further  ado,  he  dragged  me  after  him  up  to  hig 
room,  and  slamming  the  door,  hugged  me  with  honest  warmth, 
the  water  starting  from  his  eyes.  A  handsome,  rollicking  fellow 
he  was  in  his  lieutenant's  uniform.  I  could  not  look  my  fill 
while  he  piled  questions  upon  exclamations,  and,  ever  and  anon, 
burst  into  fresh  raptures. 

"  '  The  luckiest  godsend  that  ever  happened  upon  sea  or  land  ! 
How  long  have  you  been  in  this  latitude  ?  I  came  ashore  my- 
self scarce  half  an  hour  ago,  and  expect  io  lie-to  until  to-morrc  w 
afternoon.  Who  would  have  dreamed  that  the  first  fellow  I 
should  run  into  here  would  be  you,  my  precious  stay-at-home- 
brother  ?  By  Jove  !  it  is  too  good  to  be  true  !  Let  me  feel 
again  whether  you  are  real  flesh,  positive  bone  !  What  wind 
blew  you  into  this  port  ?  and  how  did  you  leave  that  blessed 
little  mate  of  yours — fortunate  dog  that  you  are  !  and  the  babies 
— how  many  of  them  are  there  ?  and  Aggie — bless  her  black 


380  M088-8IDE. 

eyes  and  rosy  cheeks  !  But  man,  you  look  white  !  What  ail* 
you?' 

"  T  staggered  to  a  chair  as  this  flood  of  inquiries  recalled  me 
to  a  sense  of  the  purpose  of  my  visit  to  the  island,  the  erruml 
ttpOL  which  I  was  bound  when  he  diverted  my  thoughts  into  a 
channel  so  different.  How  could  I  tell  him  the  stunning  truth  ? 
•nd  yet,  had  I  the  right  to  withhold  it  ?  Then  another  flash — 
was  not  he  the  very  one  whom  I  should  have  desired  to  meet  ? 
Agnes'  brothers  were  the  meet  depositories  of  the  fatal  secret — • 
the  guardians  of  it  and  her.  I  communicated  everything  as 
guardedly  as  the  confused  state  of  my  intellects  would  allow  me 
to  do.  His  bronzed  face  was  paler,  and  his  glance  more  fierce, 
as  I  forced  my  tongue  to  relate  each  incident.  As  the  eud  ap- 
proached, his  breath  became  thick  and  loud,  his  fingers  clutched 
at  the  dirk  in  his  belt.  When  I  ceased,  he  tore  it  from  its 
sheath,  and  swore,  as  only  ajj  infuriated  sailor  can  swear,  that 
the  betrayer  should  not  curse  the  earth  one  minute  longer  thau 
would  bring  him  within  reach  of  his  steel.  He  rushed  to  the 
door  in  the  thirst  of  this  passion,  but  I  prevented  him,  and 
prayed  him  to  hear  me. 

" '  Say  on,  quickly  !'  he  said,  savagely.  '  My  ears  have  heard 
enough,  and  too  much  already.' 

"  I  sketched  my  intentions,  and  warned  him  in  a  spirit  as  de- 
termined as  his,  that  I  would  not  be  defrauded  of  the  right  to 
aienge  my  sister. 

" '  She  is  mine,  too  1'  he  tried  to  say,  roughly,  but  the  tender 
heart  almost  broke  with  the  recollection,  and  hiding  his  face  in  his 
brown  hands,  he  sobbed  heavily.  '  Poor  Aggie  I  that  she  should 
have  come  to  this ' 

'•  You  are  pale  and  sick,  Grace,  darling  !  I  had  better  not 
150  on  1" 

44  No  I  no  !"  I  murmured,  "  I  will  know  the  rest.  This  <m» 
peuse  is  too  horrible  1" 


)(  O  S  8  -  8  I  D  K  .  381 

He  had  uot  seen  me  for  many  minutes  before  this  abrupt  pause, 
to  imbued  was  he  with  the  spirit  of  the  narration.  It  was  but 
thinking  aloud,  and  the  fluctuations  of  his  countenance  evinced 
his  perfect  conception  of  the  real  and  the  visible  in  the  drama  he 
flras  depicting. 

"  We  lay  down  towards  morning,  that  we  might  be  steady 
and  cool  in  the  scene  that  would  test  mental  and  physical  ccur 
age.  You  will  hardly  believe  that  I  slept  thus  ;  my  arm  over 
him,  as  we  had  slumbered  in  his  boyhood  and  my  youth — that  I 
slept  soundly  until  he  called  to  me  that  '  we  ought  to  be  up  and 
at  work.' 

"  That  '  work  !'  His  lowering  brow  reminded  me  what  /t 
was. 

"  '  Mr.  Darford  was  not  up/  the  sleepy  negro  grumbled.  '  He 
would  not  be  down  before  eleven  o'clock — had  been  out  all 
night ' — and  with  this  he  offered  to  shut  the  door  in  our  faces. 

" '  We  must  have  him  now  !  no  more  trifling  !'  retorted  Fre- 
deric. '  When  we  have  done  with  him,  he  may  lie  abed  as  late 
as  he  likes.  Go  1  say  that  two  gentlemen  want  to  see  him,  and 
that  if  he  does  not  come  down,  we  will  pay  him  a  visit  in  his 
chamber.' 

"  The  man  shuffled  off,  and  we  remained  at  the  door.  By  mu- 
tual consent,  we  would  not  cross  the  threshold  unless  we  should 
be  forced  to  do  it.  Presently,  we  heard  angry  tones  overhead, 
oaths  at  us  and  the  servant  who  had  disturbed  his  master's 
morning  doze,  and  a  man  appeared  on  the  landing  of  the  stairs. 
A  rude  interrogatory  as  to  our  names  and  business  met  with  si- 
lent contempt,  and  he  descended  to  the  hall.  His  exterior  war 
ranted  Madame  Duplanche's  praises.  Clad  as  he  was,  in  dress- 
ing-gown and  slippers,  his  hair  dishevelled  and  eyes  watery  from 
his  debauch,  his  bearing  and  features  were  sonre  extenuation  of 
poor  Agnes'  fault.  Her  image,  haggard  and  forlorn,  arose  be 
I w w;ii  him  and  me 


882  MOB8-6IDK. 

*  *l?ou  call  yourself  Darford,  I  believe  ?'  I  said. 

"  '  That  is  my  name,  sir,'  he  rejoined,  superciliously. 

"  '  And  mine  is  Leigh  !'  I  answered. 

"  A  braver  man  might  have  showed  fear  at  this 
meut  ;  but  although  his  complexion  grew  very  livid,  his  eye 
quailed  for  one  second  only,  and  he  stood  his  ground,  grasping, 
however,  the  back  of  a  chair  near  him,  that  he  might  defend 
himself  from  bodily  assault. 

"  '  Well,  sir  !'  he  resumed,  disdainfully  as  before,  '  and  what  ia 
the  object  of  your — pardon  my  bluutness  ! — untimely  visit  ?' 

"  '  Untimely,  I  own  it  is,'  said  I.  '  I  should  have  introduced 
myself  six  months  ago — the  date ' — speaking  deliberately,  that 
my  feelings  might  not  master  reason — '  of  your  illegal  marriage 
with  my  sister.' 

"  He  recovered  coolness  at  this.     '  Well  sir  !'  he  repeated. 

"  '  As  I  design  leaving  the  city  and  the  island  by  noon  to-day, 
you  will  oblige  me  by  appointing  an  hour  for  the  settlement  of 
this  affair,  that  will  enable  me  to  carry  out  my  plan,'  I  said. 

"  He  smiled  sardonically.  '  I  will  do  my  best  to  "  oblige  "  you 
without  damping  your  confidence  in  the  certainty  of  your  depart- 
ure at  the  stated  hour.  You  have  chosen  your  friend  ?'  bowing 
to  Frederic. 

"  '  My  brother  will  be  my  second,'  I  replied. 

" '  And  in  the  event  of  a  result  contrary  to  your  anticipations, 
will  step  into  your  place,'  he  continued,  with  the  same  effrontery. 

" '  I  will  !'  spoke  out  Frederic,  unable  to  contain  himself, 
'  And  now,  I  am  for  putting  an  end  to  these  absurdities.  We 
waste  time  !' 

"  '  Right,  young  gentleman  !  It  would  be  advisable,  however, 
for  me  to  get  a  short  nap  before  entering  upon  such  hot  work  as 
I  hare  ahead  of  me.  What  say  you ' — to  me — '  to  ten  o'clock  f 
We  shall  not  be  detained  more  than  half  an  hour  at  most.  Tc 
me,  as  the  challenged  party  belongs  the  right  to  select  weapons 


MOSS-SIDE.  383 

ji  most  circnmstances,  it  has  been  my  practice  to  waive  this,  bar 
you  will  excuse  my  seeming  discourtesy  if,  on  this  occasion,  I 
reserve  to  myself  the  trifling  advantage.  What  say  you  to  the 
pistol  ?  Are  you  accustomed  to  its  use  ?' 

"  I  answered  that  I  was,  and  signified  my  agreement  to  Lu 
proposition. 

"  '  And  the  place  V  he  said.     '  There  is  a  fashionable  rendez- 
oos  for  friends  bent  upon  these  affairs  ;'  and  he  named  it.    '  Au 
rtvmr,  gentlemen  1' 

"  He  partly  closed  the  door,  but  opened  it  before  we  were  off 
the  piazza. 

" '  This  is  a  malapropos  season  for  speaking  of  ladies,  but  as 
you  have,  no  doubt,  been  apprised,  your  sister,  Mrs.  Darfo-rd? 
emphasizing  the  words  with  dignity,  '  is  now  under  my  roof.  la 
it  your  wish  to  see  her,  or,  to  spare  her  needless  agitation,  had 
the  interview  better  be  postponed  until  after  the  ceremony  ?' 

"  Frederic's  dirk  was  partly  drawn,  but  I  retained  hold  of  his 
arm. 

"  '  My  sister  has  been,  since  last  evening,  in  the  charge  of  her 
lawful  protectors,'  I  said. 

"  '  Ah  1'  The  start  was  unfeigned,  his  bow  of  acquiescence 
affected  to  conceal  his  surprise.  '  Then  all  is  right.  Excuse  my 
well-meant  interference  in  family  matters,'  and  we  parted. 

"  I  have  been  particular  in  detailing  this  conversation  that 
vou  may  have  some  imagination  of  what  barred  our  hearts  to  all 
thoughts  of  forgiveness,  blinded  us  to  the  enormity  of  the  crime 
we  contemplated.  To  rid  the  earth  of  this  hardened  villain 
humanity  of  this  disgrace,  would  be  a  meritorious  deed.  W 
both  felt  that  foul  play  was  to  be  expected,  and  to  my  merchan 
friend,  I  wrote  a  concise  statement  of  the  case,  directing  him 
what  measures  to  adopt,  should  neither  of  us  return  alive.  The 
IfctUir  was  laid  in  a  conspicuous  situation  in  my  room,  and  to 
ousure  its  delivery,  I  charged  the  clerk  of  the  hotel  to  enter  th« 


384  M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  E 

apartment  and  dispatch  it  to  its  address,  if  I  did  not  report  my 
pelf  by  noon.  Agnes  was  impatient  to  be  gone,  but  I  pacified 
her  by  showing  the  advertisement  of  the  departure  of  the  vessel 
iii  which  we  had  engaged  berths,  and  representing  that  I  couM 
trot  hasten  its  sailing.  I  said  nothing  of  Frederic.  He  woul  J 
tot  trust  himself  to  meet  her,  nor  would  I  hazard  the  derange 
ttent  of  our  scheme  by  bringing  them  together  ;  sure,  as  I  was, 
that  he  would  be  unmanned  to  a  dangerous  degree. 

"  We  were  punctual,  and  did  not  have  to  wait  for  the  other 
party.  Burnet  attended  his  friend — his  dupe  in  some  respects  ; 
a  surgeon  was  m  readiness." 

The  veins  in  the  speaker's  forehead  pulsed  into  knotted  cords, 
his  face  purpled,  his  fingers  indented  my  wrist  like  iron  talons. 

"  Father  !"  I  entreated.  "  Say  no  more  I  Why  distress  your- 
self with  what  is  past  and  without  remedy  ?  You  did  not  kill 
him.  Have  not  I  seen  him — talked  with  him  ?  You  are  not  his 
murderer  \" 

"  Thank  God  !  I  am  not  I"  He  regained  his  calmness.  "  But, 
my  child,  for  twenty-eight  years,  his  blood  was  in  my  skirts;  the 
brand  of  Cain  upon  my  brow.  Infinite  goodness — undeserved 
mercy  I  these  claim  my  thanksgivings  I" 

He  gazed  upward,  and  his  lips  moved.  I  knew  it  was  in 
prayer.  His  countenance  was  once  more  the  serene  soul-mirror 
I  loved  to  look  upon.  No  story  of  stormy  gnilt  could  deface  it 
now. 

"  Yes  1  he  fell  at  the  first  fire — shot,  the  surgeon  declared, 
through  the  lungs.  We  left  him  in  the  care  of  his  second,  and 
in  less  than  two  hours,  we  were  upon  the  sea,  in  different  vessels, 
with  what  dissimilar  emotions  I  The  dart  of  remorse  made  of 
me  an  early  victim.  I  heard  from  my  brother  after  I  reached 
home.  His  tone  was  one  of  stern  exultation,  and  he  congratu- 
lated me  upon  the  sujcess  of  my  summary  dealing  with  the  cai- 
tiff 1  did  not  read  to  the  end  of  the  letter.  Every  word  WM 


M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  K  .  385 

hot  poison.  The  dying  look,  the  contorted  features  of  the 
wounded  man  were  ever  in  my  sight ;  his  groan  of  pain  and  lior 
ror  never  left  my  ear.  Blood  cried  against  me  from  the  ground. 
No  man,  innocent  of  blood-guiltiness,  can  enter  into  the  awful 
meaning  of  that  curse.  From  your  mother,  I  could  not  hide  the 
truth,  and  to  her  latest  hour,  the  grief  stamped  upon  her  face 
was  ineffaceable.  In  the  midnight,  I  have  awakened  to  find  her 
gone  from  my  side,  and  overheard  from  her  closet,  the  '  strong 
crying,'  with  which  she  supplicated  for  the  cleansing  of  my 
hands  and  heart.  The  answer  was  tardy,  but  it  came  in  His 
own  good  time." 

"  And  my  aunt,  sir  ?"  I  said,  as  he  paused. 

"  My  self-control,  the  equivocations  with  which  I  met  her 
questions  lulled  her  suspicions  ;  but  Burnet's  malice  was  more 
than  a  match  for  my  prudence.  He  wrote  to  her  what  purported 
to  be  a  true  account  of  the  duel  and  its  fatal  termination  to  his 
principal,  by  whom  I  now  suspect  the  letter  was  dictated.  He 
was  Darford's  executor  he  said,  and  would  willingly  have  made 
restitution  of  her  property,  but  upon  settlement  of  the  estate, 
he  had  discovered  its  total  insolvency.  Darford  had  squandered 
everything,  and  died  a  fraudulent  bankrupt.  The  cunningly  con- 
trived epistle  concluded  with  a  pretence  of  consolation,  to  the 
effect  that  the  Cuban  authorities  had  been  negligent  in  the 
investigation  of  the  affair,  and  that  inquiry  had  now  died  out. 

"  This  intelligence  was  transmitted  while  I  was  away  from 
home.  I  was  recalled  by  news  of  Agnes'  illness,  and  returned 
to  find  her  raving  in  a  brain-fever  that  nearly  cost  her  the  lif 
she  ever  after  considered  worthless.  You  know  what  she  wa 
froui  your  infp./icy.  The  cl  ange  was  wrought  during  this  sick 
ness  and  hor  tedious  convalescence.  Your  mother's  health  also 
declined  perceptibly  By  the  advice  of  her  physicians,  and  in 
accordance  witli  my  own  inclinations,  I  disposed  of  the  homestead 
and  rmoved  to  this  more  northerly  climate.  I  hoped  that  otuef 
17 


386  M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  E  . 

scenes  and  associations  might  bring  relief  to  us  all,  and  indeed, 
the  experiment  was  not  wholly  ineffectual.  Your  mother  rallied 
partially,  and  lived  to  hail  the  dawn  of  the  reign  of  Christian 
principles  in  my  heart ;  to  intrust  you,  her  youngest  daughter,  our 
Virginia  flower,  to  your  aunt,  confident  that  she  would  instill 
none  other  than  these  into  your  mind.  Trials  fell  fast  upon  me 
t  that  period  ;  the  deaths  of  my  wife  and  three  children  ;  the 
news  of  my  brother's  decease  in  a  foreign  port ;  the  loss  of  pro- 
perty— until  I  was  ready  to  say,  '  All  Thy  waves  and  Thy  bil 
lows  have  gone  over  me.'  Each  affliction  I  strove  to  accept  as 
the  righteous  chastisement  of  my  great  sin — never  forgotten — 
no  1  not  for  an  hour — borne  about  with  me,  as  the  ancients  used 
to  chain  a  corpse  to  a  living  body  ;  ever  loathsome,  pulling  me 
down  to  the  dust.  Then  ensued  many  years  of  outward  tran- 
quillity. Frederic  and  yourself  grew  up  under  my  eye,  healthy, 
dutiful  children,  of  whom  any  father  might  have  been  proud 
Absorbed  in  love  and  cares  for  you,  I  felt  my  burden  lighter 
But  my  discipline  was  not  at  an  end.  Grace  !  my  child  1  my 
best-beloved!  the  heaviest  consequence  of  my  guilt — heavier  thai, 
the  anguish  of  a  wife  ;  the  remorseful,  embittered  life  of  a  sis 
ter,  the  undying  pang  of  my  own  soul — was  the  necessity  thrust 
upon  me  of  breaking  your  heart,  of  converting  your  joyous  ex 
istence  into  a  night  of  weeping.  Darling  !  forgive  me  !" 

His  grey  head  sank,  and  big  tears  dropped  upon  my  upturned 
fac ;.  He  folded  me  to  his  bosom,  and  again  besought  my  for- 
giveness. 

"  Mine  I  and  for  what  ?"  I  asked,  in  tearful  amazement. 

"  Have  you  really  never  guessed  the  truth  ?"  he  said.  "  Could 
prejudice  however  inveterate — could  the  maddest  caprice  have 
horne  me  out  in  my  refusal  to  sanction  your  union  with  the  man 
whom  I  acknowledge  was,  in  everything,  worthy  of  my  favorite 
child  ?  Herbert  Wynne  is,  this  day,  as  free  from  hereditary 
faults  as  he  in  ignorant  of  his  father's  name  and  character  " 


MOSS-SIDE.  387 

"  You  do  not  mean  to  say  " I  commenced,  faintly  ;  but, 

dizzy  with  the  flood  of  thought,  I  could  not  go  on. 

"  I  mean  to  say  that  the  Dumont  you  know,  the  Darford  who 
!  believed  perished  by  my  hand,  the  Mansfield  who  Herbert  wili 
tell  you  was  the  husband  of  his  mother,  and  died  when  he,  their 
onlv  child/  was  but  a  babe — were  one  and  the  same  person." 

"  It  is  so  unreal !"  I  murmured,  trying  to  collect  my  senses. 

"  It  does  indeed  almost  pass  belief,"  said  my  father.  "  Yet 
we  read  constantly  of  like  deceptions  and  like  misery  in  our 
public  journals.  Of  the  truth  of  all  that  I  have  said  we  have 
abundant  proof.  You  knew  that  Herbert  was  the  adopted  son 
of  Mr.  Wynne,  the  nephew  of  a  former  wife,  to  whom  he  was 
bequeathed  by  a  dying  sister  ?" 

"  Yes — he  told  me,  and  so  did  Louise." 

"  And  that  his  real  name  was  Mansfield  ?"  he  interrogated. 

"  Yes — yes  !  it  was  1" 

"  His  birth-place — did  he  ever  speak  of  that  ?" 

Again  I  replied  in  the  affirmative,  naming  the  town. 

"  But  he  did  not  know — he  never  heard  " 1  stammered. 

"  My  poor  child  !  he  was  no  wiser  than  you  were  upon  certain 
points.  For  a  short,  blessed  season,  I  did  not  dream  whose  son 
was  the  partaker  of  my  hospitality,  the  suitor  for  my  daughter's 
hand.  Tell  me  truly,  Grace — did  Mr.  Townley  never  throw  any 
light  upon  this  subject  ?  never  hint  the  reason  of  my  opposition 
to  your  wishes  ?" 

"1  did  not  understand  him  then.  It  is  more  clear  now,  sir," 
1  returned. 

My  father  continued.  "  That  man's  genius  for  ferreting  out 
Jdden  things  is  unparalleled  ;  the  coincidences  that  cast  the 
cluos  to  others'  secrets  in*o  his  hands,  amount  to  a  fatality.  Do 
«ou  recollect,  one  morning  in  that  eventful  Christmas  week,  when 
he  called  by  to  accompany  m^  to  the  Court  House  ?" 

Ah  1  did  I  not  ? 


385  MOSS-SIDE. 

"  Perfectly,  sir  1"  I  responded. 

"His  approach  to  his  theme  was  extremely  guarded.  He 
began  by  extolling  the  talents  and  person  of  Mr.  Wynne.  Of 
the  former  aud  of  his  estimable  social  qualities,  he  had  had  aa 
Dpportunity  of  judging  in  the  course  of  a  conversation  with  hin? 
**.  his  (James  Townley's)  house,  on  Christmas  evening.  But 
on  that  occasion  he  had  also  obtained  an  insight  of  hid 
history  that  produced  uneasiness.  Deliberate  reflection  had 
showed  hun  that  his  palpable  duty  was  to  be  frank  with  me 
The  ice  thus  broken,  he  went  on  to  state  more  directly,  that  in 
his  travels,  the  preceding  summer,  he  had  fallen  in  with  a  man, 
apparently  a  foreigner,  who,  on  learning  that  he  lived  in  this 
neighborhood,  inquired  about  me,  and  by  degrees,  gave  the 
acute  lawyer  a  tolerably  faithful  description  of  my  pursuit  of, 
and  duel  with  Darford,  but  glossed  over  the  offence  that  pro- 
voked me  to  it,  by  a  vile  falsehood.  Agnes  was  legally  the 
wife  of  the  murdered  man,  he  said,  his  first  partner  being 
dead  at  the  date  of  his  later  marriage.  My  vindictive  attack 
he  explained  as  the  outburst  of  chagrin  and  rage  that  my 
Bister's  fortune  had  been  wrested  from  my  management.  I  had 
slain  her  peace  with  the  husband  she  adored,  and  escaped  the 
penalty  of  the  misdeed  by  a  flight  to  another  state.  If  this 
blow  was  a  shock,  what  think  you,  were  my  sufferings  when  he 
brought  forward  Herbert  Wynne's  name,  aud  proved  his  connec- 
tion with  the  tragedy  ?  The  stranger,  who  was  d(  ubtlesi 
Dumont  or  his  coadjutor  in  wickedness,  by  innuendoes  and  desul- 
tory scraps  of  information,  farther  instructed  Townley  that  the 
eon  of  the  ill-fated  Darford,  or  Mansfield,  as  he  styled  him,  had 
been  adopted  by  a  New  York  merchant,  in  whose  family  my 
daughter  was  then  a  visitor.  Townley  would  have  had  me 
believe  that  he  had  deemed  the  tale  a  fabrication,  malicious 
or  idle,  unti  the  aforesaid  conversation  with  young  Wynne  had, 
oy  correspondence  of  names,  dates  and  certain  circumstances, 


MOSS-SIDE.  3ft9 

alarmed  him  seriously  for  the  consequences  of  the  intimacy 
which  was  then  the  gossip  of  the  day. 

"  I  had  the  presence  of  mind  t«  investigate  his  proofs  The,T 
wore  the  death-blow  to  my  hopes  for,  and  in  your  happi 
ness.  If  I  was  cruel  in  my  denial  of  explanation,  inexorable  *r 
ray  resolution,  ask  yourself,  Grace,  whether  I  could  ha>« 
bestowed  you  upon  the  man,  whose  father's  blood  had  steeped 
my  hands  ?  Or,  would  your  grief  have  been  alleviated  by  the 
knowledge  of  this  fact  ?  Moreover,  I  was  bound  by  a  solemn 
promise  to  my  sister  not  to  divulge  her  disgrace  while  she  lived. 
Pride  was  no  longer  dominant,  but  neither  did  it  sleep  in  her 
bosom.  Before  she  accepted  my  offer  of  an  abode,  she  conjured 
me  by  my  love  for  her,  by  my  respect  for  the  memory  of  our 
parents,  to  guard  her  secret.  I  would  not  ask  absolution  from 
my  vow.  It  would  have  killed  her  to  know  that  to  you  wa» 
unveiled  the  Past  for  which  her  spirit  was  clothed  in  sackcloth. 
This  was  my  dilemma.  How  would  you  have  had  me  act  ?" 

"  Just  as  you  did  1"  I  rejoined,  firmly.  "  After  all,  yours  was 
the  greatest  trial." 

"  Heaven  never  sent  me  one  more  grievous  !"  With  what 
beautiful  meekness  was  this  spoken  1  "  As  by  intuition,  your 
aunt  gathered  that  all  was  not  right,  and  that  the  fault  lay  not 
with  you  or  Herbert.  She  applied  to  me  to  solve  what  perplexed 
and  troubled  her.  I  was  able  to  resist  her  entreaties  and  parry 
her  inquiries,  but  pressed  hard  by  her  shrewd  conjectures,  I  was 
forced  to  extricate  myself  by  an  admission  which,  I  fancied, 
would  create  but  a  passing  tumult  and  guard  me  from  future 
persecutions.  It  was  not  like  her,  but  she  goaded  me.  The 
fester  was  too  sore  to  bear  the  lightest  touch.  I  summed  up 
what  I  wished  to  impart  in  one  sentence,  declaring  Herbert 
Wynne's  relationship  to  her  faithless  lover.  You  witnessed  the 
unlooked-for  effect  of  the  imprudent  communication.  That  it 
was  seared  upon  her  soul  you  must  believe  with  me,  but  it  wai 


MO88-8IDE. 

never  referred  tt  egam.  The  frost  was  black  aud  killing  npoi 
my  home  ;  the  pleasant  garden,  that  had  solaced  me  in  my 
solitary  woe.  Then  my  gallant  boy  was  taken,  and  ere  th« 
green  wound  in  my  heart  closed,  Towuley  aimed  another  blow 
Robert  Peyton  was  the  innocent  conductor  of  the  stroke.  A 
garbled  version  of  the  hateful  story,  perpetuated  by  its  bloody 
Btain,  crept  through  the  community — it  must  have  been  by 
Townley's  means.  Robert,  enraged  at  the  slander,  appealed  to 
me  to  contradict  it.  I  refused,  and  without  compromising  my 
sister,  allowed  that  the  duel  had  occurred,  and  revealed  to  him 
the  gloom  flung  by  it  along  the  track  I  had  toiled  over  since. 
Abhorring  the  'code  of  honor'  as  he  does,  his  charity  spread  a 
rloak  before  my  transgression.  Too  generous,  too  pitiful  to 
npbraid  the  fallen,  yet  too  conscientious  to  palliate  the  crime,  he 
voluntarily  proposed  that  the  matter  should  be  dropped  at  ouce 
and  forever  ;  and  in  his  plea  for  pardon  for  his  unfortunate 
interference,  petitioned  that  I  would  suffer  him  to  remain  my 
friend.  Here  was  one  sun-ray.  God  knows  I  needed  it  1  They 
are  more  abundant  now.  '  Light  is  sown '  not  '  for  the  righte 
ous,'  but  for  the  penitent." 

His  eyes  roved  over  the  landscape,  flooded  by  the  mellow  light 
of  evening.  The  sinking  sun  touched  the  tree-tops,  and  Nature 
received,  in  happy  silence,  his  parting  benison.  My  unquiet  heart 
surged  and  tossed — a  brackish  sea.  Was  there  nowhere,  in  the 
wide  world,  a  comforting  gleam  for  me  ? 

"  Of  what  avail " — thus  ran  my  selfish  repinings — "  is  the 
tearing  away  of  the  veil  that  draped  by-gone  years  ;  the  end  of 
doubt,  and  speculation,  and  anxiety  ?  Can  it  restore  the  bloom 
of  youth  or  re-unite  me  to  him  ?" 

My  father's  voice  jarred  unsympathizingly  upon  my  feeling* 
yet  he  would  talk.     Unburdened  of  the  load  he  had  carried  fcc 
near  thirty  years,  he  did  not  perceive  my  depression.      He  told 
me  that  he  had  not  known  Mr.  Dumout  on  the  evening  of  nil 


M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  E  .  39'ji 

»»all  at  Mrs.  Seaton's,  until  my  aunt's  exclamation  converted  intc 
sertainty  an  indefinable  impression  he  experienced,  at  their  iiitro 
dnction,  that  the  tower-like  stature  and  marked  physiognomy 
were  not  altogether  unfamiliar.  He  had  sought  him  the  follow 
tog  day  at  his  hotel,  but  he  had  left  the  city. 

"  He  may  never  cross  my  path  again,"  he  said.  "  I  hope  fer 
tently  that  I  have  seen  him  for  the  last  time  on  earth.  Alive 
and  dead,  he  was,  up  to  this  providential  meeting,  the  haunting 
demon  of  my  life.  This  resurrection  frees  me  from  his  power.  I 
do  not  care  to  know  more  of  the  mystery  of  iniquity  that  en- 
wraps him.  The  simplest  theory  is  the  most  plausible.  My  shot 
was  not  mortal,  but  he  secured  his  safety  and  a  refinement  of 
revenge  by  strengthening  me  in  the  belief  that  I  had  killed  him 
The  disguise  of  a  different  title  and  nativity,  and  the  years,  with 
which  he  has  battled  with  wonderful  success,  would  have  been 
impenetrable  to  every  eye  but  hers.  I  am  thankful,  since  hei 
death-hour  was  so  near,  that  she  did  not  revive  after  that  look. 
In  a  woman's  heart,  there  is  always  fire  under  the  ashes,  how- 
ever coldly  they  may  have  thickened.  A  breath  of  Memory  will 
oftentimes  blow  them  away,  and  expose  the  glowing  coal." 

"  Is  this  the  burning  in  my  bosom  ?"  I  asked  inwardly. 

A  sad,  lovely  smile  shone  in  the  eyes  that  swept  the  land 
scape. 

"  God  has  left  us  much  to  bless  Him  for,  my  daughter,"  ne 
said.  "  High  above  all  else  hangs  the  Prize.  For  it,  shall  we 
not  forget  the  things  that  are  behind  ?" 

As  by  a  straggling  moonbeam,  I  had  an  indistinct,  but  how 
cheering  a  vis;on  of  Him,  whose  footsteps  can  still  the  billows  o! 
human  passion,  as  of  old,  the  turbulent  lake  subsided  into 
smoothness  at  His  coming.  The  cry  of  the  drowning  disciple 
was  groaned  up  from  my  heart. 

Then  Lilly  appeared,  tripping  through  the  garden  walks  to- 
wards ns;  singing  in  her  young,  clear  toues — 


892  MOSS-SIDE. 

•«  •  His  purposes  will  ripen  fast, 

Unfolding  every  hour ; 
The  bud  may  have  a  bitter  taste, 
Bat  sweet  will  be  the  flower.' " 

'  And  if  I  am  not  to  pluck  it  on  this  side  Heaven,  can  1  i\(4 
wait  in  patience  ?"  I  thought.    "  It  will  be  all  the  sweeter  then  1" 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

IRREC  years  bad  flown. 

I  do  not  like  these  leaps  in  a  narrative  more  than  you  do,  mj 
good  and  patient  reader  ;  but  they  are  preferable  to  a  tramp, 
foot-sore  and  eye-weary,  along  a  dull  turnpike,  where  every  mile 
is  precisely  similar  to  the  one  that  comes  before  and  that  which 
follows  it,  except  in  the  variation  of  the  figures  upon  the  stones 
sunken  in  the  sand.  Such  a  bore  it  would  be  to  trace,  step  by 
step,  the  routine  of  Moss-side  life  through  the  period  set  down 
above.  Three  years,  then,  had  flown,  or  slipped,  or  glided 
away.  Choose  whichever  term  most  aptly  describes  the  noise- 
less, easy  revolutions  of  Time's  machinery,  and  you  have  the  most 
just  conception  of  their  eventless  passage. 

It  was  a  cold  December  night.  Our  snug  sitting-room  was 
bright  with  fire  and  candles.  Of  the  last  there  were  two  upon 
the  stand  between  my  father  and  myself.  He  was  reading  a  let- 
ter, a  lady's  letter — for  the  under-sized  sheets  were  three  in 
number,  the  writing  fine,  and  the  paragraphs  compact.  It  took 
him  a  long  time  to  read  each  page.  My  work-basket  was  heaped 
with  the  week's  mending,  and  I  was  darning  a  pair  of  lambswool 
socks.  My  corner  was  the  same  my  aunt  had  occupied  until  her 
paralysis  ;  my  needle  plodded  in  and  out,  under  and  over,  as 
hers  used  to  move.  I  was  almost  as  grave,  too,  as  she  appeared 
to  me  in  those  days,  for  my  father's  attention  was  elsewhere  than 
upon  my  face,  and  my  thoughts  were,  with  his,  upon  the  papef 
he  was  perusing. 

It  was  from  our  Lilly.      I  had  received  it  at  supper-time,  bu 
It*  •» 


394:  M  O  8  S  -  8  I  D  E  . 

had  just  transferred  it  to  him.  She  was  with  her  aunt  May 
Our  household  fairy  had  not  stood  upon  our  hearth  since  thi 
winter  fires  were  kindled.  She  would  be  home  by  Christmas, 
however.  Our  small  band  must  be  complete  then,  if  at  no  other 
•eason.  I  noticed  my  father's  smile  of  satisfaction  as  he  saw  her 
positive  promise  that  this  should  be  so.  My  mental  sight  accom 
pauied  him,  word  for  word,  through  what  came  next  : — 

"  And  now,  dear  Auntie,  you  may  use  your  discretion  as  to 
the  way  in  which  you  will  share  with  grandpapa  what  I  nm  go- 
ing to  say  to  you.  Tell  him  yourself,  or  let  him  read  the  whole 
of  my  letter.  It  would  be  an  uncomfortable  novelty  to  us  to 
keep  anything  from  him.  What  a  deal  of  preparation  to  pave 
the  introduction  of  a  trivial  matter  !  Diplomacy  was  never  my 
forte,  you  know.  Mr.  Wynne  has  figured  largely  in  my  home- 
dispatches  ;  nor  is  this  surprising,  when  we  consider  how  con- 
stant has  been  his  kindness  to  me — a  bewildered  rustic  in  this 
mighty  Babel.  Now,  for  the  question — which  Aunt  May  seconds 
by  this  same  mail.  May  we  bring  him  to  Moss-side  with  us, 
Auntie  ?  Grandpapa  ?  He  is  not  a  stranger  to  yon,  says  Aunt 
May — that  he  escorted  her  to  Virginia,  when  she  paid  you  her 
first  visit,  before  she  was  married.  She  assures  me,  furthermore, 
that  he  will  go  upon  her  invitation,  since  he  is  aware  that  it  wiU 
not  be  extended  unless  it  will  afford  you  pleasure  to  entertain 
him.  I  am  hasty  to  conclude  that  he  will  be  a  welcome  guest, 
if  only  because  he  is  a  friend  of  mine  ;  but  she  is  more  prudent, 
and  understands  the  propriety  of  observing  forms,  even  between 
relatives.  So,  too,  she  will  abide  by  your  decision,  while,  if  1 
imagined,  for  a  moment,  that  you  could  object,  I  would  plead 
that  jou  would  humor  your  petted  child  in  what  lies  so  near  to 
Uer  heart.  For  my  sake — to  make  your  little  Lilly  happy 
Aantie,  write  that  you  will  be  glad  to  see  one  who  has  BO  strong 
b  claim  upon  my  gratitude." 

My  father  turned  the  leaf  hurriedly,  and  glanced  at  me      1 


M088-8IDJE.  395 

was  weaving  the  worsted  network  across  a  hole  of  discr-nraging 
dimensions.  He  read  farther,  and  I  kept  pace  with  him  as  be 
fore. 

"  To  you,  I  must  be  open-hearted.  Mr.  Wynne  is  not  an  ordi 
nary  acquaintance  ;  it  will  be  no  ordinary  disappointment  should 
jou  deny  my  request.  This  is  my  suit — do  not  say  me  nay  !" 

My  father  did  not  look  at  me  as  he  refitted  the  sheets  in  their 
envelope.  He  would  not  have  beheld  a  grave  countenance,  for 
1  was  prepared  for  examination.  The  corners  of  his  mouth  were 
slightly  depressed,  and  more  rigid  than  I  liked  to  see  them. 
Surely,  he  was  not  inimical  to  the  child's  petition  !  I  interrupted 
his  meditations. 

"  It  is  pleasant  to  think  that  we  shall  soon  have  her  with  us — 
s  it  not,  sir  ?" 

"Yes" — starting — "  yet  there  are  hints  here,"  touching  the 
letter,  "  which  I  must  say  I  do  not  understand,  nor  do  I  quite 
relish  so  much  of  them  as  I  can  make  out." 

I  laughed.  "  Ah,  father  1  you  are  jealous  of  your  place  in 
Lilly's  heart.  You  regard  her  anxiety  that  we  should  invite 
Mr.  Wynne  as  an  unfavorable  portent — unfavorable  for  us-  -I 
mean." 

"  You  have  not  hit  it  exactly  "—with  a  dissatisfied  air.  "  She 
is  too  young  to  dream  of  these  things." 

"  What  things  ?"  inquired  I,  innocently. 

"  Why — courtship — and — and — marriage  !  Pshaw  !  she  ia 
our  baby,  Grace  !  what  a  silly  notion  I  I  wish  we  had  not  let 
her  go  1" 

He  walked  up  and  down  the  floor,  vexed  or  troubled. 

"  Do  you  know  Lilly's  age,  father  ?" 

"  No — that  is,  not  to  a  day,  perhaps  ;  but  I  have  seen  many  a 
child  of  ten  who  was  larger,  and  more  of  a  woman  in  every  way." 

"  She  was  a  '  child  of  ten/  when  she  came  to  us.  That  vraa 
eight — almost  nine  years  ago,"  I  said 


396  MOSS-SIDE. 

He  stopped.  "  Is  it  possible  !  The  age  at  which  your  moth*i 
was  married  1" 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  and  May  was  no  older  when  she  engaged  herself 
to  our  Frederic." 

His  expression  changed.  He  suppressed  the  words  upon  hii 
tongue,  and  passing  to  the  back  of  my  chair,  leaned  down  and 
kissed  my  forehead.  His  eyes  and  his  heart  too,  I  knew  were 
fall  May  and  I  were  the  same  age.  The  winter  of  her  be- 
trothment  was  that  of  her  visit  to  Moss-side  ;  to  her,  the  sun  of 
love  arose,  as  it  went  down  to  me. 

Bat  I  would  not  reflect  upon  this  unavoidable  suggestion  ;  nor 
should  he. 

"  Lilly,  small  in  stature  though  she  is,  is  verging  upon  woman- 
hood," I  said,  cheerfully.  "  We  ought  to  inure  ourselves  to  this 
idea,  and,  as  its  consequence,  to  that  of  her  being  transplanted 
to  another  home.  It  is  the  most  probable  destiny  of  lovable 
women.  We — you  and  I,  father — are  sensible  of  her  charms. 
We  are  reminded  now  that  there  are  others  as  discerning." 

Dissatisfied  yet  !     I  tried  again. 

"  It  shocks  us  somewhat  now.  When  she  makes  her  choice, 
it  will  cost  us  a  straggle  to  resign  her.  Yet  is  not  this  an  inter 
ested  love  that  would  thwart  her  in  the  dearest  hope  she  cat 
ever  have  in  this  life  V 

"  1  would  not  thwart  her.  No  counter  wish  of  mine  shall  run 
against  hers.  But  this  is  unexpected." 

"  Not  to  me,"  I  rejoined.  "  Her  many  allusions  to  Mr.  Wynne, 
led  me  to  anticipate  something  of  the  kind.  She  is  too  guile- 
less to  dissemble.  He  has  filled  her  letters  in  proportion  as  be 
dvanced  in  her  affections." 

I  threaded  my  needle  with  steady  fingers,  as  I  spoke  thus,  and 
opened  another  roll  of  mending. 

"  These  women  !  they  surpass  my  comprehension  !"  mattered 
my  father,  continuing  his  strides  across  the  apartment. 


MO88-8IDE.  397 

*  They  do  not  puzzle  one  another  so  much,"  I  said  "  It 
would  be  amusing,  however,  if  this  were  a  romance  of  our  manu- 
facture ;  if  my  patch-work,  gathered  up  and  pieced  togethei 
from  Lilly's  letters,  and  some  knowledge  of  the  usual  run  of  like 
affairs,  and  your  disquiet  were  alike  thrown  away." 

"  I  hope  they  are  !"  brightening  up.  "  I  cannot  reconcile 
myself  to  it,  Grace.  I  respect  Mr.  Wynne,  as  I  have  said  fre- 
quently, I  have  a  high  regard  and  admiration  for  him  ;  but  thia 
union  would  be  unsuitable  in  point  of  age,  if  in  nothing  else." 

11  She  is  in  her  nineteenth  year,"  1  answered.  "  He  is  thirty- 
five,  but,  according  to  May  and  Lilly,  does  not  appear  nearly  so 
old.  His,  a  nature  and  constitution  that  will  bear  the  wear  and 
tear  of  time.  At  fifty,  he  will  be  younger  than  most  men 
are  at  thirty." 

There  was  a  cruel  pleasure  in  saying  this.  It  was  a  salutary, 
and  a  merited  lash  which  I  inflicted  upon  myself.  I  could  see 
that  I  had  gained  a  slight  advantage.  However  my  father 
might  construe,  for  himself,  his  repugnance  to  an  alliance,  he 
protested  was  too  preposterous  for  discussion,  something  whis- 
pered to  me  that  if  I  could  disabuse  his  mind  of  all  notion  of 
wounded  feeling  and  latent  tenderness  on  my  part,  for  Lilly's 
lover — could  convince  him  that  I  was  whole-hearted  and  sincere 
in  my  pleadings  in  his  behalf — the  main  difficulty  would  be  re- 
moved. 

"  Still,  dear,  I  do  not  approve  of  such  great  disparity,"  he 
said.  "  Youth  should  wed  with  youth." 

Another  rapid  turn  of  the  room,  and  he  brought  out  the  next 
sentence,  as  if  fearing  my  laughter,  or  ashamed  of  the  con- 
ession. 

"  I  detest  match-making,  but  I  was  weak  enough  to  hope — to 
think,  that  if  Lilly  ever  married,  Peyton  Elliott  would  be  the 
one  to  carry  her  off.  They  are  very  partial  to  each  other's 
eociety,  and  Peyton  talks  of  buying  a  place  in  this  county,  1 


898  MOSS-SIDE. 

was  mistaken,  it  seems.  I  am  sorry  for  Peyton  and  for  onr 
selves.  It  would  be  pleasant  to  have  her  settled  near  to  UB.  Ii 
he  attached  to  her,  do  you  think  ?  He  is  a  fine  young  fellow — 
Intelligent,  and  kind  in  disposition." 

"  They  are  fast  friends,  sir.  Lilly  has  no  coquetry  in  her  com 
position.  Rely  upon  it,  there  is  an  excellent  understanding  be 
twcen  them.  Peyton  is,  as  yon  say,  a  noble  young  man  ;  but  to 
her,  as  the  person  most  concerned,  we  should  leave  the  selection 
of  a  husband." 

"  Certainly  !  I  mean  to  do  it,"  he  assented. 

I  braced  myself  to  ask  a  leading  question. 

"  You  have  no  objection  to  Mr.  Wynne,  besides  the  different 
in  their  ages,  have  yon  ?" 

The  reply   was  not  very   ready,  but  had  an  emphasis  of 
truth  that  atoned  for  its  tardiness. 

41  Not  the  slightest,  my  daughter  I" 

"  Thank  you,  sir  !" 

"  You  thank  me  1" — then,  catching  up  his  inconsiderate  speech 
— "  are  yon  pleased  at  the  prospect  of  losing  our  little  one  ? 
You,  of  all  her  friends,  will  be  most  bereaved  by  her  go- 
bg." 

"  I  do  not  forget  this  ;  yet  if  she  will  be  happier  with  another 
— a  life-long  companion — than  with  us,  I  shall  smile  at  her  bridal. 
She  is  wholly  dependent  upon  love  for  every  earthly  joy.  Isola- 
tion, coldness  would  kill  her.  Some  contend  that  singlehood 
is  never  the  natural  sphere  of  woman.  I  am  not  prepared 
to  subscribe  to,  nor  yet  to  refute  this  doctrine.  Lilly  certainly 
was  not  formed  to  walk  alone.  I  am  contented  to  remain  as  I 
am  ;  but  mine  is  one  case  in  a  thousand.  Providence,  in  ordain 
tog  what  shall  be  my  position,  has  granted  me  blessings  tha 
compensate  for  its  disadvantages,  if  any  there  are." 

"  And  not  the  least  is  a  cheerful,  submissive  spirit,"  said  mi 
father. 


&I  O  6  S  -  S  I  L  E  .  39S 

The  cloud  was  clearing  away.  I  laid  my  sewing  In  the  basket 
«ud  took  his  hand. 

"  Our  conclusions,  drawn  from  the  evidence  we  possess  in  re 
gard  to  tho  state  of  Lilly's  affections,  may  be  erroneous,  fathcf 
dear  ,  but  is  it  not  expedient  to  form  some  ?  If  Mr.  Wynne 
Some  10  ns  as  our  darling's  declared  lover,  your  answer  should  be 
ready,  that  both  of  them  may  be  spared  suspense.  Edmund  will 
not  oppose  anything  which  bears  the  stamp  of  your  approval. 
If,  on  the  other  hand,  we  have  been  mistaken  in  our  supposi- 
tions ;  if  he  is  only  the  '  friend '  she  styles  him  ;  if  her  sentiment 
towards  him  is  nothing  warmer  than  the  gratitude  she  avows, 
there  is  no  harm  done.  We  can  keep  our  own  counsel,  and 
laugh  in  private,  over  our  debate  of  this  evening.  But " — for  he 
was  going  to  interrupt  me — "T  must  say,  in  sober  earnest,  that 
the  pro-courtship  scale  far  ouiweighs  the  con,  in  my  estimation 
May  expresses  herself,  as  she  always  does,  simply,  yet  with  cir- 
;umspection.  One  unused  to  her  style  would  not  detect  any  re- 
ierve  in  her  manner  of  writing  about  this  matter.  There  are 
several  portions  of  her  letter  that  I  seize  upon  as  circumstantial 
evidence  of  the  correctness  of  my  views.  Now,  may  it  please 
the  counsel  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  question — the  night  is 
waning  ;  and  since  I  cannot  but  observe  that  he  is  unprepared 
with  further  arguments,  I  move  that  the  Court  adjourn  sine  die." 

I  brought  the  Bible,  and  our  evening  worship  was  rendered. 

To  his  "  good  night "  kiss,  my  father  added  his  blessing — 
"Our  Father  in  heaven  keep  you  in  perfect  peace,  my  dear, 
good  child  I" 

I  hummed  an  evening  hymn  as  I  went  about  from  room  to 
room  of  the  lower  floor,  locking  and  barring  the  outer  openings. 
Then  I  put  my  head  in  at  my  father's  chamber  door,  and  said, 
"  Good  night  again,  and  pleasant  dreams  I"  blithely,  befort 
mounting  to  my  dormitory. 

The  careful  Martha  had  relaxed  nothing  in  the  assiduity  of 


400  MOSS-SIDE. 

her  attention  to  my  comfort  and  little,  old-maidish  fancies,  dui 
ing  the  years  that  had  made  her  a  wife,  and  the  mother  of  foia 
youngsters,  noisy  and  troublesome  enough  to  distract  her  thoughts 
from  everything  but  themselves.  The  old  lounge  was  wheeled 
diagonally  across  the  front  of  the  fireplace  ;  its  dimity  cover  was 
whole  and  clean — otherwise,  one  might  have  doubted  whether  it 

rere  not  the  very  one  I  made  ten  years  ago,  that  the  couch 
might  be  in  its  best  trim  for  May's  reception.  The  round-topped, 
spindle-legged  and  club-footed  stand,  bearing  a  candle  and  my 
Bible,  stood  guard  by  my  pillow  of  the  settee,  for  there  it  was 
my  custom  to  sit  and  read  before  retiring.  Over  the  mantel 
hung  the  pale  girl-portrait — Louise's  gift — the  frame  cracked 
and  tarnished  ;  the  sad,  pure  face  still  looking  its  mute  prayer  to 
heaven.  The  only  change  of  note  in  the  room  was  in  myself. 

I  could  not  withstand  the  temptation  to  fall  upon  the  lounge 
and  weep  heartily.  It  was  a  weak  indulgence,  and  useless  as 
weak  ;  but  my  strength  had  ebbed  from  me  in  the  battle  with 
my  own  heart  and  my  father's  scruples.  I  might  well  have  ex- 
claimed with  Pyrrhus,  "  One  more  such  victory  will  ruin  me  !" 
I  was  not  envious  of  my  child's  good-fortune  ;  was  not  inclined 
to  impute  blame  to  her  lover.  The  charge  of  fickleness  was  re- 
mote from  my  mind.  I  had  freed  him,  weary  ages  since,  and 
deigned  no  reply  to  his  persevering  suit.  Whose  fault  was  il 
that  he  had  parted  with  the  very  remembrance  of  that  far-off 
Christmas-time,  while  it  had  power  left  to  master  me  ?  I  did 
not  ask  myself  the  cause  of  my  emotion.  Reason  essayed  once 
or  twice  to  scourge  me  to  self-examination — t  shame  me  into 
composure.  Great  as  was  my  awe  of  the  beldame,  whose  despotx 

sm  I  seldom  defied  now-a-days,  I  did  not  attempt  a  feint  of  respect 
—only  stopped  my  ears  and  wept  on,  until  the  sluices  were  dry. 
I  sobbed  tearlessly,  while  I  undressed,  and  long  after  I  was  in 
bed,  in  hysterical  exhaustion.  The  loneliness  of  desolation  brood- 
e-l  in  my  heart.  Duty  stimulates  to  arduous  endeavor  ;  supporti 


MOSS-SIDE,  40. 

Her  votary  in  the  furnace  and  upon  the  scaffold  ;  but  let  him  b« 
surprised  into  captivity  by  Sorrow,  and  he  finds  in  her  the  hard, 
ansympathizing  task-mistress,  requiring  from  her  thrall  the  full 
tale  of  bricks,  when  he  has  not  a  stalk,  even  of  stubble,  where 
with  to  manufacture  them. 

I  cried  myself  to  sleep,  and  awoke  at  dawn,  conscious  that  1 
had  a  week  of  labor  ahead  of  me,  yet  so  inert,  so  languid,  cor- 
poreally and  in  spirit,  that  it  was  a  sweeping  draught  upon  my 
energy  to  arise  and  get  ready  for  breakfast.  My  work  that  day 
was  all  toil ;  so  was  that  of  every  one  of  the  seven  that  succeed- 
ed it. 

The  morning  of  the  eighth,  Peyton  Elliot  walked  into  the  din- 
ing-room before  breakfast  was  over,  his  eyes  sparkling,  and 
cheeks  ruddy  with  health  and  pleasure. 

"  Why,  Peyton  !  my  lad,  welcome  !"  cried  my  father,  over- 
turning his  chair  in  the  cordial  haste  of  greeting.  "  I  did  not 
know  you  were  in  the  neighborhood.  When  did  you  arrive  ?" 

"  Last  night,  sir,  at  Linden — this  instant  at  Moss-side.  Aun- 
tie dear,  I  am  a  breakfastless  runaway.  May  I  venture  to  pray 
for  one  tiny  cup  of  coffee  to  melt  the  frost  in  my  mouth  ?" 

I  loved  the  boy — for  boy  he  was,  in  comparison  with  my  ma- 
turity ;  so  I  had  his  plate  laid  at  the  corner  nearest  me  and  the 
fire  ;  poured  out  for  him  the  smoking  hot  beverage  he  craved, 
and  pressed  biscuit,  rolls,  ham  and  eggs  upon  him,  until  he  sued 
for  quarter. 

"  The  best  Aunt  Grace  that  ever  sat  behind  a  tea-tray  !"  be 
said.  "  The  best  boy-spoiler  in  Christendom  I  You  are  th« 
'  busy  bee  improving  each  shining  hour,'  just  now,  I  suppose  T 
I  stumbled  over  a  cake  of  wax  and  a  scrubbing-brush  in  the  en- 
try, whose  manifest  destiny  was  the  polishing  of  this  neat  hive, 
where  the  oldest  inhabitant  has  never  seen  a  grain  of  dust.  Do 
you  confidently  expect  your  friends  to-morrow  ?" 

My  father,  sobered  by  the  train  of  thought  these  queries  set 


t02  MOS8-8IDF 

in  motion,  addressed  himself,  with  instant  diligence,  to  his  break 
fast. 

"  We  do,"  I  replied.  "  Yon  will  dine  with  ns  on  Christmas 
day,  of  course  ;  but  you  will  not  put  off  your  call  to  Lilly  aud 
Oar  visitors  until  then,  I  trust." 

There  was  a  twinkling  smile  in  his  eye  as  he  bowed,  in  mock 
decorum,  to  my  invitation  ;  a  sort  of  roguish  confidence  that 
cut  my  heart  I  would  have  escaped  a  tete-a-te'te  with  him,  but 
he  out-manoeuvred  me  by  doubling  upon  me  as  I  was  retreating, 
aud  conducted  me  back  to  the  breakfast-room. 

"  Why  were  you  running  away  from  me,  Auntie  ?" 

He  had  caught  the  pet-name  from  Lilly,  and  knew  that  it 
pleased  me  for  him  to  use  it. 

"  Running  away  !"  he  reiterated,  "  when  I  made  my  toilette 
by  sunrise,  before  the  fire  was  lighted  in  my  room,  and  perilled 
my  lungs  by  copious  imbibations  of  the  morning  air,  that  smarts 
in  one's  respiratory  tubes  like  stinging  nettles,  and  for  no  other 
earthly  purpose  than  to  see  you  !" 

"  We  housekeepers,  ray  dear  Peyton,"  I  excused  myself 

"  Are  never  non-plussed  for  apologies  I"  he  interposed.  "  I 
will  not  detain  you  later  than  the  proper  hour  for  concocting 
that  incomparable  cake,  those  peerless  pies,  which  are  to  shed 
new  glories  upon  your  name  as  the  nonesuch  of  housewives 
There  is  a  time  for  all  things;  and  this  happens  to  be  the  season 
for  hearing  and  talking  to  me.  I  want  you  to  '  make  a  clane 
breast,  out-and-out,'  as  Dr.  Ilamner  says,  of  all  this  stuff  con- 
cerning Lilly  and  the  semi-centenarian,  she  is  towing  after  her 
into  this  port.'' 

"  What  a  rattle  you  are  !"  I  remonstrated,  tempted  to  resen* 
his  levity.  "  State  your  inquiry  in  intelligible  terms,  and  1 
may  have  some  hope  of  answering  you." 

"  There  1  there,  Auntie  dear  !"  laughing  so  that  he  could 
hardly  articulate.  "  Don't  bristle  up  so  fiercely  1  I  meant  nc 


M08B-8IDE.  402 

Jtei-espect  to  Miss  Lilly  and  the  staid  gentleman  whose  grcj 
hairs  command  my  veneration.  A  tincture  of  asperity  would  b€ 
very  pardonable  in  me,  situated  as  I  am,  whereas  I  am  a  verj 
lamb  in  my  demeanor.  What  business  has  this  antiquated  cock- 
ney to  be  poaching  upon  our  ground — yours  and  mine,  Auntie  ? 
When  I  have  been  over  head  and  ears  in  love  with  your  Lilly 
ever  since  I  discarded  roundabouts  !  aye,  and  before  that 
'  Pharaoh's  overthrow '  was  mine  likewise.  I  ceased  to  be  a  free 
man  from  that  day.  And  now,  without  so  much  as  saying  '  by 
your  gracious  leave  and  pleasure,  Mr.  Elliott/  or,  '  after  you,  sir,1 
in  steps  this — this — organic  fossil" 

"  Peyton  1  I  will  hear  no  more  nonsense.  I  believed  that  you 
knew  better  what  is  due  from  one  gentleman  to  another.  Cour- 
tesy to  Lilly  should,  at  all  events,  restrain  you  from  applying 
such  epithets  to  her  friend." 

"  Is  he  truly  her  friend,  then  ?"  demanded  the  unabashed 
scapegrace. 

His  eager  hanging  upon  my  answer  disconcerted  me.  I  stu- 
died to  frame  one  which  should  prepare  him  for  the  truth,  ye* 
not  wound  too  deeply. 

"  She  does  not  write  that  he  is  anything  dearer.  In  the  ab- 
sence of  direct  proof,  it  is  not  altogether  proper  to  express  as 
opinion  what  is  entirely  clever  guess-work.  We  shall  ascertain 
how  matters  stand  by  the  help  of  our  own  senses,  before  long. 
You  must  come  over  and  judge  for  yourself." 

"  Isn't  there  an  ice-pond  in  this  vicinity  ?"  was  his  most  irrel- 
evant query 

"  Yes." 

"  A  good,  deep  one,  is  it  not  ?  You  were  drowned  there,  CDC* 
upon  a  time,  if  I  recollect  rightly." 

"  Almost,"  I  replied.  "  When  full,  it  measures  six  feet  of 
water  in  the  middle,  where  I  went  in." 

"  Six  feet  1"  dubiously.     "  Mr.  Peyton  represents  this  ancienj 


iU4  MOSS-BIDE. 

wooer,  this  revered  Mr.  Wynne  as  a  giant.  What  is  the  bottonr 
of  the  pond — mire  or  quiftksand  ?" 

"  I  really  cannot  inform  you." 

•'  I  might  double  him  up  and  hold  him  under,"  he  pondered 
aloud,  with  perfect  seriousness.  "  Have  you  a  personal  regard 
or  the  gentleman,  leaving  Lilly  out  of  the  question  ?" 

The  foolish  blood  streamed  hotly  over  my  neck  and  face,  and 
my  voice  as  foolishly  failed  me  in  the  effort  to  speak.  I  was 
angry  with  him  for  the  abrupt  inquiry,  tenfold  more  angry  with 
myself  for  the  display  of  discomposure,  greatly  exceeding  that 
which  I  felt. 

"  What  is  he  like  ?"  he  pursued,  without  comment  upon  m,? 
silence.  "  You  are  acquainted  with  him.  He  has  been  to  MOST 
side,  Mrs.  Peyton  tells  me.w 

"  He  is  strikingly  handsome,"  I  rallied  desperately  ;  "  very 
intelligent,  and  possesses  a  heart  as  admirable  as  is  his  in- 
tellect." 

' '  Insatiate  archer !  would  not  once  suffice? 
Thrice  flew  thy  dart,  and  thrice  my  peace  was  slain  1'  " 

exclaimed  Peyton,  tragically.  "  Dear  Auntie  I  pity  me  I  Have 
you  no  compunction  as  you  annihilate  my  air-castles  !  Cupid  be 
my  aid  when  I  war  with  your  Apollo  !  He  has  one  vulnerable 
point,  however.  I  will  not  go  out  and  hang  myself  yet.  He  u 
old,  Auntie  1  on  the  shady  side  of  forty,  I  hear" 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  I  recommenced,  but  he  did  not  stop  to 
listen. 

"  Lilly  is  already  well-supplied  with  fathers.    One  may  have 
nperabundance  of  an  excellent  thing.     Two  of  the  firsVciaa 
rticles  referred  to  are  generally  sufficient  for  one  young  lady 
What  will  she  do  with  three  ?" 

"  Peyton  I"  I  said,  decidedly.  "  If  /oar  intention  is  to  offend 
we  you  can  persis*  in  thif  tone.  I  do  not  say,  mark  me  !  that 


1IOBB-BIDK.  405 

Lilly  will  marry  Mr  Wynne;  do  not  know  that  he  has  addressed, 
or  that  he  ever  will  address  her  ;  but  she  could  not  select,  for  a 
husband,  one  more  worthy  of  her  love.  The  choice  would  call 
for  and  receive  the  congratulations  of  every  disinterested 
friend." 

"  Intimating  that  I  may  be  ranked  with  some  other  class, 
fejoined   he,  provokingly.     "  I  plead  guilty  to  the  severe  im 
peachment.     Teach  me,  a  poor,  faulty,  erring  youth,  this  laud- 
able disinterestedness,  Auntie.     You  are  the  impersonation  of 
its  highest  type,  as  you  are  of  the  rest  of  the  cardinal  virtues." 

"  Peyton  I"  I  was  wounded  now. 

"  Forgive  me  j  It  is  nobody  but  your  naughty  nephew,  dear 
A.unt  Grace.  He  loves  you  as  much  as  he  delights,  in  a  harm- 
less way,  to  tease  you." 

"  You  have  not  teased  me,"  I  said.  "  Why  should  I  bo 
»eased  ?"  for  the  word  did  not  sound  agreeably  in  my  ears. 

"  Why,  indeed  ?"  echoed  he.  "  Now,  as  the  French  phrase  it, 
'return  we  to  our  muttons ' — i.  e.,  Mr.  Wynne.  I  will  not  back 
out  ingloriously.  I  will  fight  him  like  a  chivalric  knight  of  the 
old  cavalier  stock  ;  will  give  him  a  fair  field  and  no  favor.  If 
I  am  defeated,  there  is  the  ice-pond  as  a  final  resort  to  cool  the 
flame  of  his  love  or  drown  my  burning  shame.  An  ally  in  the 
enemy's  camp  is  a  grand  desideratum  in  a  tough  siege.  May  I 
depend  upon  you  ?  Which  will  you  espouse  ?  the  cause  of  which 
r f  the  combatants,  I  should  have  said." 

"  1  am  neutral,  and  wish  to  remain  so,"  I  replied. 

"  That  is  contrary  to  nature  and  to  art,  and  is,  besides,  ticklish 
ground  for  you.  I  am  afraid  you  have  been  tampered  with ; 
that  you  are  enlisted  in  soul  for  the  support  of  my  adversary 
|i/  tu,  Brnte !  And  I  am  utterly  friendless  1" 

My  discomfort  increased  unaccountably. 

"  My  dear  boy/'  I  said,  "  does  it  not  strike  you  that  this  is  t 
superlatively  ridiculous  conversation  ?" 


406  M  O  S  8-8  I  D  K. 

"  '  SjK)rt  to  yoa,  but  death  to  me ' "  he  interrupted,  ruefully 
"  Your  defection  caps  the  climax.  The  mode  of  tactics  I  bad  to 
propose  was  as  follows  :  You  were  to  captivate  this  son  of  Anafe 
yourself.  You  could  do  it  easily,  with  only  half  a  trial  of  your 
strength.  I  am  not  the  first,  nor  the  tenth,  nor  the  hundredth 
person  who  has  told  you  of  the  power  of  your  charms.  You  cau 
be  bewitching  when  you  like — don't  leave  me,  Auntie  !  I  am  iu 
dead  earnest !  upon  my  word  of  honor,  as  a  gentleman,  I  am  1 
I  will  affirm  the  same  upon  that  venerable  and  sacred  folio  of  en« 
gravings  in  the  bookcase  yonder — the  one  with  '  Pharaoh's  over- 
throw' in  it,  if  you  distrust  my  veracity.  Yon  are  superior  to 
matrimony,  I  know.  I  don't  want  to  force  you  to  that  extreme 
— but  cannot  your  '  disinterestedness '  sacrifice  more  agreeablf 
pursuits,  for  a  few  days,  to  the  occupation  I  have  mentioned  1 
Cannot  you  submit  to  temporary  boredom  to  secure  for  me  a  last 
ing  good  ?" 

"  The  incomparable  cake  and  peerless  pies  are  suffering  for  my 
attention,  Peyton." 

"  Burn  them  !  I  am  agonizing,  and  I  will  have  a  declaration, 
defensive  or  offensive.  Will  you,  or  will  you  not  take  Mi 
Wynne  off  Lilly's  hands,  and  thereby  keep  ray  hands  off  of  him  ?' 

"  I  am  sick  of  unseasonable  jesting  I"  I  answered. 

"  Just  my  case  !  I  mean  to  settle  your  mind,  and  ease  mine 
by  one  stroke.  You  shall  help  him  you  love  best.  Which  is  it  ?" 

I  snatched  my  hand  from  his  grasp  and  ran  out  of  the  room 
All  the  way  up-stairs,  I  heard  his  laugh. 

"  He  is  surely  demented  !"  I  said  to  myself.  "  I  will  not  gc 
lio-.vn  again  while  he  is  here.  I  will  teach  him  that  he  canuct 
,v<*n-y  me  with  impunity." 

And  from  sheer  worrimeut  (what  else  could  it  have  been  ?}  I 
tried  until  I  was  tired.  Age  had  not  sweetened  my  temper,  or 
why  was  I  thus  ruffled  by  the  rambling  bombast  of  a  Ihougbtlesa 
fouth? 


M088-8IDB.  *07 


CHAPTER  XXVT7 

1  WAS  a  skillful  housekeeper  ;  as  skillful  as  a  natural  tasle  for, 
aud  experience  in,  the  avocation  could  make  ma  ;  and  I  bestowed 
extraordinary  pains  upon  the  preparations  for  the  holiday  feast- 
ings  ;  worked  as  indefatigably  as  upon  the  last  merry  Christmas 
I  had  known — when  May  and  Frederic  danced,  and  rode,  and 
rambled  together,  and  I  was  not  abandoned  to  loneliness,  mean- 
while. I  accomplished  more  now,  for  mine  was  the  principal 
responsibility,  and  I  wrought  with  system  and  industry.  "  It  is 
for  Lilly  1"  was  my  invariable  excuse  to  my  father,  who  objected 
to  my  incessant  toil.  Never  had  my  gift-daughter  been  so  dear 
to  me  before.  She  was  the  centre  and  the  bound  of  all  my 
thoughts  and  schemes,  and  the  reflection  that  I  might  be  about 
to  lose  her,  quickened  every  impulse  of  affection. 

The  trio  of  travellers  was  looked  for  in  the  evening,  and  I 
superintended  the  spreading  of  the  supper-table  before  I  dressed. 
It  was  a  goodly  show,  although  the  more  substantial  viands  were 
yet  to  fill  up  the  empty  spaces  ;  and  I  nodded  complacence  from 
the  door,  where  the  eyes  of  the  destined  partakers  would  be  re- 
galed, and  their  appetites  sharpened  by  a  view  of  the  board. 
My  keys  jingled  mutual  gratulations  in  the  basket  on  my  arm, 
ceasing,  with  a  united  tingle  of  content,  as  I  deposited  them 
pon  my  dressing-table. 

"  Patience  alive  !  Miss  Grace  I"  said  Martha,  in  the  height  of 
aigeting  impatience  ;  "  Fso  been 'pon  tender-hooks  and  biokea 
bottles  for  bettern  half  an  hour.  You  ain't  got  a  millionth  of  a 
•eooud  to  spar.  I'm  skeered  to  death  for  fear  the  folks  should 


408  MO9B-SIDK. 

ketch  you  in  that-are  dingy  Circassian.  Please  let  me  unhook 
it !  We'll  have  it  off,  and  something  more  decenter  on,  in  a 
•iffy  1" 

The  "  more  decenter "  garment  was  a  handsome  dark  silk, 
with  broad  satin  stripes  of  a  brighter  hue,  relieving  the  ground  ; 
«y  best  winter  robe.  Martha's  taste  was  commendable,  for 
I  had  nothing  more  becoming.  It  was  made  open  from  the 
tliroat  almost  to  the  girdle,  with  flowing  sleeves,  and  my  ju- 
dicious abigail  had  selected,  from  my  drawers,  a  set  of  laces  to 
wear  with  it.  The  gauzy  chemisette  was  my  favorite  neck-gear  ; 
my  arms  would  be  plump  and  fair  through  the  flattering  veil  of 
the  sleeves — but  there  were  other  considerations  of  fitness. 

"  I  shall  not  put  that  on,  Martha,"  I  said,  shaking  loose  my 
hair. 

"  Miss  Grace  !" 

"  I  shall  not  wear  that  dress,"  I  repeated,  as  though  I  thought 
she  had  not  heard  me.  "  Get  my  stone-colored  merino." 

She  took  up  the  condemned  apparel,  but  instead  of  replacing 
it  in  the  wardrobe,  began  a  parley. 

"  You  think  that  solemn  thing  is  fitter  to  war  to-night  I  Miss 
May  always  dresses  beautiful,  if  she  is  in  mournin',  and  Miss 
Lilly,  I'll  be  bound,  is  got  more  fine  clothes  than  you  can  shake 
a  stick  at.  It  hurts  my  feelin's,  Miss  Grace,  to  see  you  look  like 
poor  white  folks  'long  side  of  'em— so  it  does  !  Now,  this  " — 
rustling  it  ostentatiously — "  is  what  I  calls  more  respectabler — 
genteel  in  fac'  !  Won't  you  put  it  on  jest  this  once  ?  To-morrow 
they  won't  be  so  companyfied,  'Twon't  matter  so  mighty  much 
then  how  you  fix  up." 

I  was  obdurate,  and  with  a  bad  grace,  she  produced  the  Qua 
kvr  attire  I  ordered.  It  fitted  me  nicely,  and  was  not  obsolete  in 
fashion  ;  yet  I  looked  prim  and  apinsterish,  to  myself,  when  th« 
worked  muslin  collar  finished  my  adorning. 

Martha  was  lugubrious. 


MOSS-SIDE,  409 

"  If  you  would  just  stick  some  ribbon-bows  about  you  some- 
whar,  or  war  a  sash  with  long  ends,  or  put  some  flowers  in  your 
he-yar,  'twould  help  a  little.  Bless  you,  Miss  Grace  !  it  goes 
against  the  grain  for  me  to  'low  such  a  thing,  but  you  do  look 
old  enough  to  be  your  own  ma  !" 

"  I  have  a  grown  daughter,"  I  said,  after  she  had  taken  her- 
lelf  and  her  bemoanings  out  of  the  way.  "  Has  every  vestige  of 
youth  then  vanished  ?  Let  us  see  1" 

I  surveyed  myself  at  length  in  the  mirror,  lighting  another 
candle,  that  the  obscurity  might  not  befriend  me. 

"  You  might  well  pass  for  Lilly's  mother,  if  not,  as  Martha 
asserts,  for  your  own,  Grace,"  was  my  judgment.  "  Bear  this 
in  mind,  and  you  will  not  disgrace  yourself  by  juvenile  airs. 
Hold  fast  to  your  principles  and  your  resolutions.  In  two 
months  and  a  half  you  will  be  thirty — the  age  of  discretion,  or  you 
vill  never  attain  to  it.  Do  not  delude  yourself  with  any  hope 
that  Mr.  Wynne's  aspect  will  chronicle  the  years  of  your  separa- 
tion as  truthfully  as  does  yours.  Time  is  proverbially  partial  to 
men.  It  is  not  often  that  he  flatters  women  with  these  very  ac- 
ceptable tokens  of  favoritism.  To  you  he  has  not  vouchsafed  a 
dispensation.  You  are  a  single  woman  of  thirty  !  Do  not  for- 
get this,  and,  as  I  remarked,  you  are  comparatively  safe." 

1 '  Cold  comfort,  this  1"  I  hear  some  one  observe. 

It  was  just  the  harsh  tonic  I  needed.  It  fortified  me  for 
the  nonce,  although  it  was  not  what  supported  me  unto  the  end 
of  the  trying  evening.  I  bolted  my  door,  and  knelt  to  pray  for 
more  enduring  strength — for  consolation.  Only  there,  at  the 
mercy-seat,  did  I  confess  my  want  of  courage,  my  need  of  balm. 

I  have  intimated  that  I  bore  up  pretty  well  throughout  the 
evening.  I  was  not  talkative.  While  we  were  at  table  I  had 
not  leisure  and  opportunity  to  engage  freely  in  the  general  con 
versation.  Lilly's  never-flagging  spirits  enlivened  the  others  to 
mirthfulness,  and  I  smiled  as  readily  as  the  gayest  of  them.  I 
18 


410  M  O  6  8  -  6  I  D  K  . 

was  glad  ;c  see  my  father  treat  Mr.  Wynne  with  unreserved 
politeness  ;  more  glad  at  the  gradual  infusion  of  cordiality  into 
bis  deportment,  when  they  had  talked  together  for  a  time.  The 
massive  centre-table  maintained  its  place  sturdily  in  the  parlor, 
and,  around  it,  as  by  a  common  centripetal  attraction,  we  ranged 
our  seats,  supper  having  been  dispatched. 

"  Your  work-basket,  Auntie  !"  exclaimed  Lilly,  who  had  found 
her  way  to  her  footstool  at  my  knee.  "  I  hoped  you  would  dc 
nothing  except  spoil  me  to-night." 

"My  fingers  only  will  be  busied  with  my  work,"  said  I. 
"  Eyes,  tongue,  ears  and  thoughts  are  yours  The  Christmas  gifta 
for  the  servants  are  more  backward  than  they  should  be.  If 
you  " — indicating  a  plural  sense  by  my  eye — "  will  excuse  an 
appearance  of  neglect  of  your  society,  I  will  go  on  with  those 
that  are  unfinished." 

The  desired  permission  was  given,  and  my  embarrassments 
were  over.  My  downcast  lids  relieved  me  from  the  duty  or 
chance  of  looking  from  face  to  face,  and  as  I  saw  them  not,  I 
was  beguiled  into  the  fancy  that  I  was  myself  unobserved.  When 
my  regards  strayed,  it  was  to  Lilly.  Lovely  she  had  ever  been 
in  my  sight ;  but  now  she  had  acquired  an  air  of  easy  elegance, 
a  confidence  which  was  not  of  that  species  that  degenerates  into 
boldness.  I  had  never  possessed  such  a  manner.  If  I  had,  the 
diffidence  I  did  not  pretend  to  conceal,  when  solicited  to  enter  a 
higher,  wider  sphere,  wonld  never  have  existed,  or  if  there  had 
been  a  lurking  misgiving,  I  would  not  have  avowed  it.  Yet  my 
''  little  daughter "  had  not  outgrown  her  pethood.  There  was 
•ret  a  child-like  grace — an  artless  winningness  about  her  that 
proclaimed  the  unsullied  nature  ;  the  unchilled  fount  of  affection. 
She  sat  at  ray  feet  as  she  did  nine  years  ago  ;  the  smooth,  open 
brow  lay  snowily  within  its  frame  of  golden  chestnut ;  the  la* 
trous  eyes,  whether  laughing  or  serious,  were  telling  me,  al)  tb« 
while,  sweet  stories  of  her  Icve  for  me. 


MC88-8IDE.  4:1 1 

Wrapped  up  in  admiration  and  maternal  devotion  for  my  dar« 

ling,  there  was  an  enlargement  of  kindly  feeling  towards  all 

whom  she  loved,  and  to  whom  she  was  dear.    It  was  from  the 

bfluence  of  this  benevolent   expansion  that  I  was  induced  to 

ocost  Mr.  Wynne,  as  we  were  dispersing  for  the  night. 

"Have  you  relinquished  the  idea  of  making  California  your 
ome,  Mr.  Wynne  ?" 

What  a  groundless  apprehension  had  that  been  which  had 
prevented  me  from  encountering  his  gaze  until  this  moment  ?  It 
was  gentle  and  brotherly,  and  -reassured  instead  of  confus- 
ing me. 

"I  had  never  an  'intention'  of  residing  there,"  he  replied. 
"  The  '  fever '  did  not  attack  me.  My  going  was  a  cool  specula- 
tion, with  no  attendant  excitement,  except  a  liking  for  adven- 
ture. I  was  tired  of  home,  and  I  went.  I  became  more  tired 
of  California,  and  here  I  am  !" 

"  But  a  relapse — should  that  occur  I"  said  I. 

"  There  is,  I  trust,  no  danger  of  that.  I  regard  my  citizen' 
ship  iu  the  United  States  as  perpetual  ;  if  one  may  call  that 
perpetuity  which  endures  as  long  as  his  life." 

This  was  no  idle  talk,  for  Lilly  stood  beside  him,  and  I  inter- 
cepted a  gleam  of  intelligent  meaning  in  its  progress  from  one 
to  the  other.  Who  would  expatriate  himself  when  his  native 
land  contained  this  treasure  ?  who  would  not  embrace  patriot- 
ism, when  this  was  her  award  to  the  staunch  citizen  ? 

•'  You  have  chosen  wisely,"  I  remarked,  in  default  of  a  more 
original  observation. 

"  I  think  so  1"  Another  significant  eye-messenger,  while 
Lilly's  cheeks  dimpled  witchingly.  "  It  is  a  trite,  but  one  o~ 
the  truesi  of  proverbs,  that  '  there  is  no  place  like  home.' " 

My  heart  did  ache  at  the  unexpected  quotation,  but  I  quellea 
the  painful  bound,  soothed  the  smart  by  saying  within  myself— 
"  I  nv.iy  be  ut  ease  as  to  what  he  remembers  of  the  one  passags 


412  M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  K  . 

that  uuted  our  lives  for  a  day.  It  is  nothing  —less  than  noth« 
ing  to  him.  In  loving  Lilly,  he  is  not  haunted  by  the  ghost  of 
his  youthful  fancy  for  me — her  maiden  aunt." 

I  was  not  entirely  prepared  to  listen  to  Lilly's  history  of  theh 
acquaintance  and  present  relation,  yet — so  unreasonable  are  we — 
1  was  mortified,  considered  myself  badly  treated,  inasmuch  as  she 
slept  in  my  bosom  all  night,  her  hands  joined  there,  as  she  did 
in  childhood,  when  in  my  sleeplessness,  I  derived  comfort  from 
the  fancy  that  the  fingers,  moving  at  intervals  in  her  slumbers, 
were  feeling  for  my  heart-strings  ;  I  was  wounded,  I  say,  that 
she  lay  thus,  and  spoke  of  every  other  subject,  never  of  this  ; 
that  she  followed  me  around  through  the  house,  in  the  day-time, 
loving,  caressing,  the  image  of  frank  innocence — yet  nevei 
breathed  a  syllable  implying  that  the  chief,  the  highest  niche  in 
the  heart  temple  had  been  occupied,  and  gloriously,  since  our 
parting  ;  that  the  nestling  was  fledged  and  plumed  for  flight, 
although  she  tarried  for  a  space  in  the  covert  where  she  had 
BO  long  sheltered  her  head — the  shade  of  my  wing. 

The  Linden  carriage  drove  over  early  on  the  morning  after  the 
arrival,  and  Peyton  was  the  outrider.  Lilly  was  at  the  window. 
She  colored  rosily  ;  but  as  a  shower  of  smiles  fell  upon  her  face, 
as  she  flew  out  to  meet  our  friends,  I  concluded  that  there  was 
nothing  in  her  delight  more  complimentary  to  Peyton  than  to 
Annie  and  her  husband.  The  audacious  youth  was  helped  by 
his  vanity  to  a  judgment  more  favorable  to  his  pretensions  ;  for 
he  usurped  Mr.  Wynne's  place  at  her  side  ;  conversed  fluently 
and  gaily  with  us,  confidentially  with  her  ;  had,  in  short,  quite 
the  mien  of  an  accepted  lover. 

Mr.  Wynne  did  not  chafe  as  a  younger  man  would  have  do-J6 
in  his  situation.  Indeed,  he  appeared  to  connive  at  the 
monopoly  of  Lilly,  by  her  whilom  playfellow.  He  coaxed  little 
Mary  Peyton  to  his  knee,  when  she  showed  a  disposition  to 
cling  too  tenaciously  to  "cousin  Lilly,"  and  engrossed  he» 


MOSS-SIDE.  4:13 

father's  attention,  while  May  and  I  were  chatting  with  Annie.  1 
renewed  my  invitation  to  our  neighbors  to  our  Christmas  dinner  ; 
onr  party  was  engaged  for  the  second  day  to  them,  and  thej 
departed,  leaving  Peyton  behind.  Domestic  cares  obliged  m« 
by  and  by,  to  absent  myself  from  the  parlor.  When  I  returned 
the  incorrigible  youngster  was  stationary  as  ever,  in  the  luxuri- 
ous height  of  what  was,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  a  private 
interview,  since  Mr.  Wynne  and  May  were  as  far  withdrawL  as 
the  walls  of  the  apartment  would  permit. 

May  beckoned  to  me. 

"With  us,  you  are  not  de  trap,"  she  said,  in  an  undertone. 
"  With  them,  you  might  be." 

Mr.  Wynne  smiled.  He  was  very  sure  of  his  footing  ;  fear 
less  of  rivalry,  and  he  could  afford  to  be  magnanimous.  I  would 
reward  his  generous  forbearance. 

"  They  were  playmates,  you  know,"  I  observed  ;  "  and  are  on 
the  most  amicable  terms." 

"  Or  appearances  belie  them,"  answered  Mr.  Wynne,  amused, 
perhaps  at  my  bungling  quietus  to  his  jealousy.  "  Misery  and 
dislike  seldom  deck  themselves  in  such  disguises  as  they  are 
sporting." 

"Lilly  has  no  elder  brother" — I  plunged  on,  making  myself 
more  ridiculous  at  each  step — "  and  Peyton  seems  very  near  to 
her." 

Both  my  auditors  laughed  out  here,  and  I,  baffled  in  my  search 
for  anything  diverting  in  what  I  had  said,  flushed  up  so  redly 
that  I  feared  they  would  believe  me  angered  by  their  merriment 
To  avoid  this,  I  joined  in  with  them  and  laughed  at  I  knew  not 
»vht.t.  I  left  the  young  couple  alone  after  this  unlucky  expla- 
natory measure  by  which  I  sought  to  account  for  the  false 
appearance  of  the  times  ;  and  there  they  were,  talking  as  fast 
»ud  as  intently  when  the  dinner-bell  rang. 

May,  in  the  interim,  reminded  herself  of  a  letter  to  be  written 


4  H  MOSS-SIDE. 

to  her  mothe  ,  and  Mr.  Wynne  had  no  resource  against  «•  /litndf 
except  my  society.  How  like,  and  yet  how  unlike  was  this  to 
that  dead,  buried,  forgotten  Christmas  !  He  was  very  kind.  He 
could  not  have  been  kinder  if  he  had  cherished  the  memory  of 
that  lost  time,  and  we  had  stood,  hand  in  hand,  beside  its  memo- 
rial-etone.  He  was  more  sedate  ;  not  so  addicted  to  badinage  as 
I  remembered  him  ;  but  the  independence  of  thought  ;  the 
manly  earnestness  of  expression  ;  the  courteous  deference  to  his 
fellow  colloquist,  particularly  if  she  were  a  lady — deference  that 
had  a  dignity  of  its  own,  and  scorned  the  outermost  verge  of 
servility — were  not  all  these  known  to  me  ?  spoke  they  not  to 
me  like  the  faint,  delicious  murmnrings  of  the  ocean-shell  to  the 
inland  exile,  who  was  born  and  reared  beside  the  sea-waves  ? 
Precaution  grew  drowsy  under  the  music  ;  even  the  Argus  eyes 
of  my  grim  monitress,  Dame  Reason — than  whom  the  "  Old 
Man  of  the  Sea,"  never  clung  more  tightly  to  his  hapless  vic- 
tim— even  these  were  veiled  in  sleep,  and  I  was  happy  with  the 
happiness  of  my  girlhood.  It  was  one  of  those  bright,  rare 
days  to  my  soul,  such  as  the  sun,  in  a  prodigality  of  good 
nature  sometimes  in  winter,  pours  upon  the  surprised  natural 
world  ;  when  through  the  cold,  bare  bosom  of  Mother  Earth 
run  thrills  of  ecstatic  summer  rapture,  as  if  her  veins  were  throb- 
bing with  rich  wines. 

In  my  morning  mood,  I  would  have  been  seriously  alarmed 
and  offended  at  Peyton's  conduct.  He  was  utterly  reckless  of 
etiquette  and  conventional  restrictions,  regardless  of  another's 
just  rights,  in  his  behavior  to  Lilly.  Not  content  with  the  four 
hours'  conference  of  the  forenoon,  he  fastened  upon  her  when  the 
repast  was  done,  and  conducted  her  back  to  the  sofa  in  the  pir- 
lor,  which  he  only  left,  after  the  lapse  of  anothei  hour,  to 
advertise  a  ride  they  were  to  take  in  company.  I  was  not  so 
bereft  of  reason  by  the  tropical  breezes  find  perf Mines  I  war 
inhaling,  as  not  to  oppose  this  motion. 


MOSS-SIDE  .  411 

"  Is  it  not  too  cold,  Lilly,  dear  ?"  I  asked. 

This  question  would,  in  other  times,  have  been  equivalent 
to  a  stringent  prohibition,  but  she  only  bestowed  on  me  one  of 
her  sunshiny  smiles,  and  crying,  "  Oh,  no,  Auntie  !  I  shall  er.joj 
a  gallop  of  all  thing?  in  the  world  !"  glanced  out  of  the  roop, 
like  a  veritable  ray  of  light. 

"  I  must  see  that  she  is  warmly  dressed,"  was  my  pretext  foi 
rUing  to  follow  her. 

May  pulled  me  down. 

"  Sit  still,  Grace  !  I  am  going  to  her."  She  subjoined  a  whis- 
per. "  There  is  no  risk  I  Let  the  child  enjoy  herself  I" 

"  No  risk  I"  I  repeated  inly,  comparing  Peyton's  glowing 
countenance  and  restless  movements,  attesting  to  what  pinnacle 
of  bliss  he  had  climbed,  with  Mr.  Wynne's  contented  air.  "  I 
believe  we  are  all  crazy  or  silly  alike  1" 

Mr.  Wynne,  with  an  authority,  modified  by  his  graceful  polite- 
ness, waved  Peyton  aside,  as  Lilly  prepared  to  mount,  and  lift- 
ing the  fairy  figure  dexterously,  seated  her  in  the  saddle.  He 
adjusted  the  reins  also,  and  presented  them  to  her,  and  while 
stroking  the  silky  mane  of  her  horse,  said  something  lowly  and 
rapidly,  that  made  her  blush  and  smile  the  most  charming  of  the 
thousand  that  had  chased  one  another  over  her  face  that  day. 

"  May  is  nearer  right  than  I  am,"  I  thought.  "  Yet  no  1 
there  is  danger  to  one  of  whom  she  does  not  think.  Alas  for 
the  deluded  Peyton  1" 

My  heart  fainted  in  pity  for  him,  I  imagined  ;  but  it  came  to 
lurprisingly  soon,  for  we  elder  pleasure-seekers  walked  out. 
May  claimed  my  father's  arm,  and  Mr.  Wynne  tendered  his  to 
me.  May  lagged  in  the  rear  ;  yet  she  was  no  despicable  pedes- 
trian, and  my  father's  step  was  unlike  that  of  age.  We  could 
distinguish  her  voice  in  animated  narration,  it  seemed,  by  tin 
i»  flections  and  infrequent  breaks  in  the  thread. 

"  What  can  she  be  discoursing  about  !"  I  said,  curiously. 


416  MOSS-SIDE. 

"  Something  intensely  interesting  to  themselves — to  her,  ai 
least,"  was  the  response.  "  We,  for  the  sake  of  variety,  will  try 
a  dialogue.  I  am  not  so  complaisant  as  your  father.  I  must 
nave  my  turn." 

The  same  rare,  prodigal  sunlight  ;  the  same  coursing  wiik* 
teins,  warming  and  exhilarating  ;  the  same  Circe-song  ;  the  same 
weak  and  wicked  intoxication — and  the  day  departed  and  the 
night  came — the  twilight  of  reflection,  with  frost,  not  dew. 

"  What  am  I  doing  ?  what  am  I  ?"  I  said,  in  the  depth  of  the 
dark  hours. 

Lilly  was  asleep  on  my  breast.  By  the  moonlight,  I  saw  her 
calm  fairness  ;  felt,  against  my  unholy  heart  the  beatings  of 
hers,  trustful,  free  from  doubt  as  from  guilt  ;  a  rippleless  lake, 
reflecting  the  heaven  and  stars  of  Love  bent  above  it — and  I,  oh, 
what  wrong  of  her  was  in  my  soul  !  Conscience  and  Reason 
blami.d  me  for  their  negligence,  and  each  zealously  repaired  her 
fault  in  exhibiting  mine  in  its  worst,  vilest  form.  A  wretched, 
mangled  worm,  I  writhed  till  morning,  when  a  retributive  spirit 
took  me  by  the  hand,  and  bade  me  be  guided  by  her  through  the 
devious  paths  where  I  had  stumbled  so  sadly. 

Fortune  "  or  Providence,"  said  my  repentant  heart,  aided  me. 
Mr.  Wynne  and  my  father  rode  out  and  were  gone  until  dinner. 
I  forced  myself  to  think  of  the  subject  of  their  discussion.  I  had 
heard  Mr.  Wynne  propose  the  jaunt,  and  detected  the  slight  agi- 
tation, imperceptible  except  to  such  eyes  and  ears  as  mine,  with 
which  he  proffered  the  request.  I  was  with  May  and  Lilly,  play- 
ing the  decent  woman  of  the  house,  the  whole  forenoon,  and  pre- 
sided with  more  propriety  than  on  yesterday,  at  the  table.  Then, 
the  flesh  being  unspeakably  weary,  I  retired  to  my  chamber, 
where  I  slept  heavily,  heavily — like  a  beaten,  berated  dumb  cre» 
tore. 

WheL  I  awoke,  the  room  waa  coldly  dismal  with  the  impeno 
ing  night  shades  I  had  laid  down  without  removing  my  dresi 


M  O  S  S  -  S  I  D  E  .  417 

Half-dreaming,  I  shook  and  brushed  the  tumbled  folds  ;  twisted 
op  my  hair  by  the  sense  of  touch  alone,  and  groped  my  way 
down  the  steps.  May's  laugh  sounded  through  the  parlor  door. 
My  father's  voice  answered  it,  and  without  risk  of  disturbing 
Lilly  and  her  lover,  as  I  had  thought  I  might  do,  if  I  went  into 
that  room,  I  entered.  Candles  were  upon  the  centre-table  ; 
their  blaze  dazzled  me  ;  the  merry  hum  of  conversation  bewild- 
ered me.  At  last,  I  made  out  to  perceive  that  I  was  the  only 
one  wanting  to  fill  up  the  family  group.  Wanting  !  was  I  want- 
ing ?  had  they  missed  me  ? 

Mr.  Wynne  had  been  reading  from  a  Magazine  now  shut  upon 
his  finger. 

"  We  have  wished  for  you,  Grace,"  said  May.  "  Lilly  went  to 
call  you,  but  said  you  were  sleeping  so  peacefully  that  it  would  be 
a  pity  to  arouse  yon.  Herbert  has  been  reading  a  humorous 
sketch  to  us.  You  would  have  liked  it." 

"  Liked  it  perhaps — but  she  is  not  over-friendly  to  professed 
ly  '  humorous'  articles,"  rejoined  Mr.  Wynne.  "I  have  a  scrap 
of  rhyme  in  my  pocket-book,  which  will  please  you  better,  Misi 
Leigh,  than  a  host  of  the  wittiest  jeux  d 'esprit  Hood  ever  perpe 
trated.  Written  jests  are  not  for  me  either.  We  once  com- 
pared notes  on  this  matter  and  agreed,  I  recollect,  that  they  re 
sembled  re-bottled  champagne.  Yet  neither  of  us  are  back- 
ward in  our  relish  of  spoken  and  acted  fun." 

He  was  very  kind  thus  to  remember  and  quote  my  tastes  1  I 
wished  I  could  reply  as  this  notice  of  me  deserved  ;  but  I  stam- 
mered an  unintelligible  assent,  and  sat  down,  protecting  my  blink- 
ing eyes  with  a  hand-screen. 

"  The  poem  1"  said  May.  "  I  love  fun,  written,  printed, 
poken  or  acted  ;  yet  my  taste  is  not  so  vitiated  that  I  have  not 
some  appreciation  of  a  nice  clever  bit  of  poetry." 

"  This  '  bit'  is  neither  clever  nor  nice,"  returned  Mr.  Wynne5 
In  a  like  strain.  "  It  is  poetry.  The  author  is  young,  but  I,  foi 
18* 


418  M  O  6  E-8  I  P  K. 

one  of  his  admirers,  shall  never  forgive  him  if  he  does  not 
become  the  Tennyson  of  America." 

"  '  Poeta  nascitur,  non  fit, '"  repeated  my  father. 

"  He  is  a  born  poet,  sir,"  answered  Mr.  Wynne.  "  The  sacred 
Era  is  within  him.  It  remains  with  him  to  give  it  to  the  world 
as  freely  as  he  has  received,  or  to  make  of  himself  a  dark  Ian 
tern.  Will  you  hear  his  simple  '  Legend  ?'  " 

It  was  mournfully  musical  as  the  wind-harp  heard  at  midnight 
tender  and  delicate  as  a  maiden's  thoughts  of  love.  Heart 
and  breaths  kept  time  to  the  rhythmic  flow  from  the  speaker's 
lips.  The  story  was,  as  he  had  said,  very  simple.  A  lonely 
high-born  maiden,  pure  and  cold  to  others'  sight  as  mountain 
snows,  watched  the  sea  from  her  castle-turrets,  or  wandered 
among  the 

"Ragged,  jagged  rocks 
That  tooth  the  dreadful  beach;" 

always  looking  from  the  land  ;  straining  her  eyes  across  the 
waters,  waiting,  hoping,  none  knew  for  whom  or  what,  until  the 
deferred  hope  sickened  into  despair,  and  she  died 

"  She  ever  loved  the  sea, 
God's  half-uttered  mystery, 
With  its  million  lips  of  shells, 

Its  never-ceasing  roar ; 
And  'twas  well  that  when  she  died, 
They  made  Mand  a  grave  beside 
The  bine  pulses  of  the  tide, 

'Mong  the  crags  of  Elsinore 

One  chill,  red-leaf  falling  morn 
Many  russet  autumns  gone, 
A.  lone  ship,  with  folded  wings, 

Lay  dozing  off  the  lea  , 
It  came  silently  at  night, 
With  its  wings  of  murky  white 


MOS8-8IEE.  419 

Folded  after  weary  flight— 
The  worn  nursling  of  the  Sea ! 

Crowds  of  peasants  flocked  the  sands  ; 
There  were  tears  and  clasping  hands ; 
And  a  sailor  from  the  ship 

Passed  through  the  church-yard  gate. 
Only  '  Maud,'  the  head-stone  read  ; 
Only  '  Maud  ?'    Was't  all  it  said  ? 
Then  why  did  he  bow  his  head 

Weeping,  '  Late,  alaa !  too  late !' 

And  they  called  her  cold  !    God  knows. 
Underneath  the  winter  snows, 
The  invisible  hearts  of  flowers 

Grow  ripe  for  blossoming. 
And  the  lives  that  look  so  cold, 
If  their  stories  could  be  told, 
Would  seem  cast  in  gentler  mould, 

Would  seem  full  of  love  and  spring." 


I  should  not  have  been  ashamed  of  the  softness  to  whose  in- 
fluence others  testified  by  trembling  smiles  and  glistening  eyes  ; 
yet  I  raised  my  screen  high  and  nearer  to  my  face.  Their  teari 
were  the  dew  of  sympathy  ;  mine  rained  from  the  cloud  of  my 
own  heart-grief.  I,  too,  had  had  a  watch  of  years,  unremarked, 
because  unknown  by  those  around  me  ;  a  wandering  of  fruitless 
expectation  across  a  great,  uncertain  waste — the  Hereafter  of 
the  monotonous  Now  ;  and  to  me,  also,  had  come  the  end  of 
waiting.  The  arms,  erst  flung  in  supplicating  gesture  towards 
the  blank  horizon,  were  folded  upon  my  breast,  the  lids  were 
fallen  over  the  dimmed  irids  ;  but  oh  !  not  in  "  Maud's  "  peace* 
ful  rest !  The  "  cold  life,"  the  "  winter  snows,"  heaped  and 
hardened — these  still  remained  to  me. 

Mr.  Wynne  came  over  and  took  a  seat  by  me.  I  feared  tha,. 
ne  observed  the  drops  I  could  not  at  once  conceal,  for  there  was 
compassion  in  his  tone.  I  wanted  to  thank  him  for  his  good- 
ness, and  again,  articulation  played  me  false  I  looked  anf 


120  X  O  8  8  -  8  1  D  B  . 

behaved  as  any  apathetic  automaton  might  have  done.  Suppei 
liberated  him  from  the  duty  of  entertaining  me,  and  furnished 
me  with  work  to  do  which  became  the  inane,  homespun  maidec 
of  thirty,  a  more  comely  partner  for  the  tea-urn  than  for  th 
•uitor  of  her 


M  O  8  S  -  8  I  D  E  .  421 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

LILLY  was  talkative  after  we  retired  to  bed,  and  I  did  not 
dissuade  her.  My  common  sense  showed  me  that  the  most  effec- 
tual safe-guard  against  a  return  of  the  insane  delirium  of  the 
previous  day  would  be  the  reception  of  her  confidence  ;  to  hear 
from  herself  what — nevertheless,  I  did  not  now  doubt — that  she 
was  to  be  the  wife  of  him  whose  betrothed  I  was  at  her  age. 
So,  I  tuned  my  voice  into  better  harmony  with  hers,  and  paid 
encouraging  heed  to  whatever  she  said. 

"  To-morrow  will  be  Christmas-Eve,"  she  prattled,  her  hand 
on  my  heart,  never  dreaming  how  its  strings  were  quivering  !  "It 
is  nine  years  since  papa  gave  me  to  you,  Auntie  dear.  He  might 
as  well  have  brought  you  Pandora's  box." 

"  You  know  that  is  not  true,  Miss  Sauce-box  P  1  replied.  "  I 
will  not  humor  you  by  contradiction.  You  bait  too  awkwardly 
to  catch  compliments  from  me." 

"  But,  seriously,  am  I  any  comfort  to  ?  you  have  I  recom- 
pensed you,  in  my  degree,  for  the  trouble  I  have  given  ?"  she 
asked. 

"  My  darling  1  when  you  are  my  choicest  treasure  !    The  debt 

mine,  not  yours,  Lilly." 

"  You  humble,  you  distress  me  by  talking  so,  Auntie.  I  owe 
my  life,  and  whatever  makes  life  happy,  to  you.  Mother  !  you 
art  my  mother  I"  putting  back^my  hair  and  kissing  the  scarred 
temple. 

How  rough  and  old  my  skiu  felt,  compared  with  the  satin 
smoothness  of  hers  1  But  my  pained  heart  was  easier  for  the 


422  M  0  8  8  -  8  I  D  K  . 

beloved  title  she  had  applied  to  me  ;  its  bruised  tendrils  clasped 
her  more  tightlj. 

"  It  would  seein  hard,  unkind,  for  us  to  be  separated  ;  would 
it  not  ?"  she  resumed,  thoughtfully. 

"  It  is  coming  !"  I  whispered  warningly  to  my  spirit.  Then  1 
maile  answer  bravely. 

"  Very  hard  for  a  while,  love,  until  we  were  used  to  it.     It  is 

tLmg  that  occurs  every  day.  Daughters  as  dutiful  and  affec- 
tionate, leave  doting  mothers.  It  is  one  of  the  necessary  trials 
of  our  existence." 

"  Is  it " — hesitating — "  is  it  ungrateful,  Auntie  ?" 

"  You  dear  little  goose  1  Ask  Aunt  May  to-morrow,  whether 
Bhe  ever  suffers  from  remorse  for  having  loved  your  uncle  morf 
than  she  did  her  mother.  It  is  woman's  nature,  Lilly,  the  die 
tate  of  an  instinct  implanted  by  God  himself.  To  contend  with, 
or  disobey  this  feeling  is  wrong,  sometimes  wicked." 

She  was  playing  with  the  ruffles  of  her  sleeves,  as  if  perturbed 
or  restless,  but  I  could  see  that  she  smiled  meanwhile. 

"  I  have  always  intended  to  live  single,  never  to  leave  you 
and  grandpapa,"  she  said. 

"  Excuse  me,  dear,  for  correcting  you.  Whatever  you  maj 
have  believed  were  your  intentions,  you  deceived  yourself  if  you 
imagined  they  were  to  remain  as  you  are,  and  where  you  are. 
Every  girl — I  do  not  believe  there  has  ever  been  an  exception 
— thinks  of  marriage,  that  is,  a  marriage  of  affection,  as  a  de- 
sirable and  probable  event.  This  is  not  the  language  which 
others  would  use  to  you,  but  it  is  the  truth.  Nor  is  it  an  evi« 
deuce  of  declining  love  for  grandpapa  and  myself  that  you  have 
bad  visions  of  another  home,  and  another,  a  stronger  feeliug 
Because  you  are  dear  to  us,  we  would  rejoice  In  your  joy,  wer 
your  heart  overflowing  with  that  ripe,  all-satisfying  happiness  that 
only  this  reciprocal  love  can  bestow.  From  the  beginning,  it  hal 
mastered  parental  and  filial  affection,  and  it  is  just  that  it  should.* 


M  O  8  8  •  8  I  D  E .  423 

Her  hand  res;ed  still  upon  my  heart.  Did  she  feel  the  leap 
of  the  blood  through,  and  from  it,  at  her  reply  ? 

"  Yet,  Auntie,  you  are  not  married,  and  seem  happy — the  hap- 
piest person  J  ever  saw.  When  I  was  too  young  to  understand 
these  things  you  told  me  that  you  were  satisfied  with  you? 
lot.  Would  the  feeling  you  have  mentioned  contribute  any 
tfiitig  to  your  contentment  ?  Are  you  ever  conscious  of  its 
need  ?" 

"  Conscious  of  its  need  1"  echoed  the  heart,  with  a  sudden 
shriek  of  pain.  "  Would  I  not  surrender  the  last  forced  breath 
of  life  to  gain  it  V 

"  I  read  a  story  once,  Lilly,"  I  said,  "  of  a  man  who  wished 
to  enter  a  monastery  or  college  of  recluses,  who  called  them- 
selves '  silent  philosophers.'  There  was  no  vacancy  in  their  num- 
ber ;  a  blow  to  his  hope,  which  they  communicated  by  offering 
him  a  cup  brimming  with  water.  No  more  could  be  added  with- 
out overrunning  it.  He  comprehended  the  sign,  and,  bowing  his 
submission,  was  about  to  retire,  when  he  perceived  upon  the 
flags  at  his  feet,  a  rose-leaf.  He  picked  it  up,  and  laid  it  so  dex- 
terously upon  the  surface  of  the  water  that  not  a  particle  was 
displaced.  The  happy  conceit  secured  his  unanimous  election. 
Can  you  add  the  moral  of  my  fable,  darling  ?" 

"  I  wish — how  I  wish  that  the  rose-leaf  of  love  were  laid 
upon  your  heart,  dearest  Auntie  1"  she  responded,  raising  her- 
self upon  her  arm,  that  she  might  see  my  countenance. 

"  I  have  that  which  almost  supplies  its  want,"  said  I ;  "  the 
belief  that  my  daughter's  cup  is  crowned  with  roses  ;  that,  to  ita 
rery  depths,  it  reflects  their  crimson." 

She  kissed  me  ;  then  buried  her  face  in  my  bosom. 

"  Our  Father  bless  you  both,  dearest  !"  I  uttered  "ervently, 
*8  I  stroked  the  abundant,  flossy  curls.  "  Yours  is  a  worthy 
choice.  I  can  resign  you  without  distrust  to  his  keeping." 

"  I  am  such  a  child  in  everything  I"  she  whispered     "  Sfl 


424-  M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  E . 

young,  so  inexperienced  !  Indeed,  Auntie,  I  fear  he  has  been 
hasty." 

"  His  is  a  mature  judgment,  Lilly,  and  not  apt  to  hurry  him 

into  indiscretion.     At  your  aunt's,  he  had  uncommon  facilitiei 

for  reading  your  character.     He  knows  and  loves  my  precious 

one.     He  will  wear  the  prize   tenderly  and  proudly,  as  he 

hould." 

What  ailed  the  child  ?  Was  it  the  involuntary  reserve  of 
her  strange  position  as  a  woman  and  betrothed,  or  the  start  of 
shyness  at  her  freedom  of  speech  upon  this  topic,  that  made  her 
draw  away  from  my  embrace,  and  speak  so  decidedly  ? 

"  We  will  not  talk  further  of  this  to-night,  dear  aunt.  To- 
moirow,  or  on  Christmas-day,  you  shall  have  the  story,  from  be- 
ginning to  end.  This  is  the  only  partial  confidence  I  have  ever 
showed  you.  It  shall  be  the  last.  You  will  pardon  me  whec 
you  know  the  circumstances.  It  was  not  all  my  fault  either  "— 
faltering — "  Aunt  May,  and — and  " 

"  Mr.  Wynne,"  I  supplied,  composedly. 

"  Yes — advised  me  to  wait  until  they  considered  it  prudent 
to  disclose  the  matter." 

"  You  were  right,  dear,  and  so,  doubtless,  were  they  ;"  but  at 
heart,  I  owned  to  a  tinge  of  jealousy  that  they  should  have  had 
the  power  to  restrain  the  outgoings  of  her  spirit  towards  me — 
they,  who  were  the  intimates  of  a  day  in  comparison  with  my 
years  of  devotion. 

I  stifled  the  unworthy  thought — unworthy  of  me  and  of  them 
—  in  the  birth,  and  while  she  slumbered,  drew  her  hands,  that 
yet  felt  like  the  baby-fingers  I  had  pressed  there  nine  years  ago, 
to  my  breast,  and  my  heart  beat  evenly  beneath  them,  for  I  h*d 
gained  a  conquest  over  myself. 

Once,  during  the  following  day,  it  stirred  uneasily — only  once. 
It  was  when  passing  the  parlor  door,  which  was  slightly  ajar,  1 
oeheld  through  it,  a  tableau  within  the  room.  Mr.  Wyane  stood 


MOSS-SIDE.  425 

near  the  fireplace,  facing  me,  but  his  head  was  bent  so  that  he 
did  not  see  me — bent  over  another — girlish  and  rich  in  golden 
ringlets — which  lay  against  his  shoulder.  His  arm  encircled  the 
slender  waist ;  her  face,  averted  in  pretty  coyness,  was  rosy  aa 
the  morning ;  his,  smiling,  proud,  tender,  with  the  look  I  had 
Imaged,  when  I  prophesied  how  he  would  wear  his  prize.  'Twas 
but  a  glance  that  I  had,  and  neither  of  them  were  aware  of  my 
fleet  step  through  the  hall.  I  went  to  my  father's  room,  where 
was  May,  sewing,  on  one  side  of  his  chair.  I  established  myself 
on  the  other,  and  our  needles  and  tongues  were  not  idle  until  our 
father  warned  us  that  our  eyes  might  be  the  sufferers  from  the 
failure  of  daylight. 

I  had  to  give  out  supper,  and  I  sang  from  the  dining-room  to 
the  pantry  ;  from  the  pantry,  through  the  yard  to  the  smoke 
house  ;  sang,  as  I  paused  in  the  back  porch,  and  gazed  west 
ward,  at  the  streaks  of  pale  flame,  orange,  and  white,  and  red, 
shooting  up  into  the  wintry  blue  of  the  zenith.  There,  cloud 
flakes  huddled  motionless  as  if  frozen  ;  and  through  the  frosty 
stillness,  fell  down  to  earth  the  shrill,  harsh  cry  of  a  flock  of 
wild  geese,  darkly  stringing  southward. 

"  It  will  be  bitter  cold  to-night  1"  I  shivered,  going  into  the 
house. 

The  redoubtable  dandy  butler  opened  the  door,  directed  to 
me  by  my  song. 

"  Miss  Lilly  'squests  the  pleasure  of  your  company  to  step 
into  the  parlor  one  half  minute,  Miss  Grace,"  he  delivered,  pom- 
pously. 

"  What  does  she  want,  I  wonder  ?"  I  soliloquized.  "  She  will 
ot  subject  herself  and  me  to  a  '  scene,'  surely  I" 

The  parlor  would  have  been  dusk,  but  for  the  crackling  fire  to 
which  Joe  had  just  added  fresh  fuel.  First,  I  saw  that  Lilly  was 
not  there  ;  then,  Mr  Wynne  came  forward  and  led  me  to  a 
•eat. 


±26  M  O  8  fc  -  6  I  D  E  . 

"  Lillj  sent  for  you,  at  my  request,"  he  said.  "  Can  you  sf.ar« 
me  a  little  of  your  valuable  time  ?  Can  yon  remain  patient  if  1 
become  prosy  in  what  I  am  about  to  relate  ?" 

"  Certainly,"  I  answered. 

The  time  and  the  scene  were  here,  and  I  borrowed  nervo  front 
Ihe  exigency.  I  set  down  ray  basket  of  keys  upon  the  carpet,  s« 
carefully  that  they  did  not  ring  at  all,  and  leaned  back,  with  the 
civil  equanimity  of  more  than  a  resigned — of  a  willing  listener. 
He  stationed  himself  upon  the  same  sofa,  at  a  respectful  distance 
from  me,  his  back  to  the  fire.  It  shone  broadly  into  my  eyes  ; 
yet  I  did  not  shirk  this  disadvantage.  Why  should  I  ?  /had 
nothing  to  divulge — nothing  to  conceal. 

"  Lilly  says,"  he  commenced,  "  that  from  some  intimations  you 
have  made  to  her,  she  supposes  you  to  be  conscious  that  my  visit 
here  is  not  one  of  ordinary  friendship.  You  have,  perhaps,  pene- 
trated my  design  in  escorting  her  home  ?" 

"  If  he  expects  me  to  enact  the  sharp-sighted  mother,  elate 
with  the  prospect  of  her  daughter's  fortunate  settlement,  he  will 
be  disappointed,"  I  determined  ;  so  I  looked  inquiringly  after 
more  light  on  the  subject,  and  said  nothing. 

"  She  is  very  beautiful,"  he  continued  ;  "  and  trained  as  she 
has  been,  her  graces  of  mind  and  character  could  hardly  fail  to 
match  those  of  the  exterior.  You  have  perfected  a  good  work 
in  her." 

"  It  was  an  easy  and  a  delightful  task,"  replied  I,  '  and  il 
I  contributed  anything  towards  its  performance,  it  was  an  un- 
conscious part  The  seed  was  planted  before  she  came  to  us. 
There  was  then  a  principle  at  work  within  the  soil,  which  would 
have  destroyed  the  weeds  and  brought  the  fruit  to  perfection." 

"  I  am  acquainted  with  the  extent  of  her  obligations  to  you," 
he  returned,  in  the  coolest  manner  imaginable.  "  I  expected 
that  you  would  deny  it,  yet  I  am  none  the  less  obstinate  in  mj 
conviction  that  whoever  is  endowed  with  her  heart  and  hand 


M  C  8  t      SIDE.  427 

irill  have  to  thank  you  for  much  of  his  happiness.  To  no  ether 
woman  living  would  /  so  willingly  owe  the  best  blessing  Earth 
has  hi  its  gift." 

"  Thank  you  !"  I  said,  moved. 

It  was  like  distilling  oil  into  my  spirit  to  think  that  I  had  donf 
Bomething  for  his  welfare  ;  that  he  was  mindful  of,  and  g-ratefu 
ft>r  it. 

"  Knowing  you,  as  I  did,"  proceeded  he,  "  it  was  not  possible 
that  I  should  have  been  deceived  in  the  likeness  which  I  recog 
nized  when  I  met  her  in  your  sister's  home.  Her  model  was  too 
faithfully  copied." 

"  We  are  very  unlike  !"  I  corrected,  hastily.  "  Your  imagi- 
nation created  the  resemblance,  Mr.  Wynne." 

"  Then  I,  alone,  would  have  perceived  it,  whereas  it  is  univer- 
sally remarked  by  accurate  observers.  Those  who  have  no  per- 
ception for  similitudes  except  those  of  complexion  and  the  color- 
ing of  hair  and  eyes,  do  not  see  this,  it  is  true.  In  tone  and  ges- 
ture ;  in  certain  peculiar  forms  of  language  ;  above  all,  in  the 
beaming  of  the  inner  light  and  the  modesty  that  would,  but  can- 
not obscure  this  ;  the  forgetfulness  of  Self,  and  in  love  and 
thought  for  others — in  these,  I  affirm,  she  is  a  copy  of  yourself 
This  is  not  fulsome  compliment,  Miss  Leigh — my  heart  claims 
utterance  this  evening,  and  it  shall  have  it  1" 

Should  I  tell  him  how  painful  such  frankness  was  ?  Might  he 
not  misinterpret  my  reluctance  to  listen  ? 

"  Thank  you  I"  I  repeated,  but  in  a  different  tone.  "  I  am 
honored  by  your  kind  opinion  of  me,  'exaggerated  as  are  your 
praises." 

"  Do  me  the  justice  to  believe  them  sincere,  nevertheless,"  h 
said,  so  dignifiedly  that  I  felt  rebuked  for  the  chill  incredulity  of 
my  reply.  "  May  I  inquire  if  you  suspected  that  I  was  attached 
to  your  niece  before  I  accompanied  her  hither  ?" 

"  I  did — without  sufficient  cause,  perhaps,  but  I  certainly  btu? 
such  an  idea." 


8  MO88-8IDE 

"  Or  May  is  not  the  friend  and  correspondent  I  relieve  her  to 
be,"  he  answered.  "  Will  you  oblige  me  by  stating  candidly 
what  were  your  sentiments  on  hearing  of  my  suit  to  her  ?  what 
they  are  now  ?" 

I  shook  my  head. 

"  One  question  at  a  time,  if  you  please,  sir  1" 

"  For  instance,  then — did  you  think  me  presumptuous  ?" 

"  By  no  means  1"  I  said.  "  Lilly  is  very  dear,  very  beautiful, 
very  winning  to  us,  but  there  are  many  who  outshine  her." 

"  Not  in  my  estimation  " — then  smilingly — "  we  will  pass  that 
point,  however.  Does  it  appear  selfish  and  unreasonable  that  I 
should  covet  the  blossom  you  have  nurtured  ;  in  which  your 
affections  are  bound  up  ?" 

My  voice  was  not  so  clear  now  ;  but  I  answered  readily,  and 
it  was  firmer  as  I  went  on. 

"  Would  it  not  be  more  unreasonably  selfish  in  us  to  grudge 
you  your  possession  of  what  we  have  enjoyed  now  so  long? 
Would  it  not  be  the  height  of  unkindness  to  negative  your  offer, 
when  her  peace  of  mind  hangs  upon  our  decision  ?  True  love 
does  not  think  of,  much  less  does  it  consult  with  Self." 

"  Yours  does  not  1"  emphatically.  "  Now  for  the  grand  diffi- 
culty 1  Before  I  present  it,  I  beg  you  to  recollect  that  I  am  not 
sensitive  touching  it.  Say  out  what  you  really  feel.  Is  not  the 
difference  in  our  ages — fifteen  years  and  some  months,  you 
know — incompatible  with  every  theory  of  romantic  affection  ;  at 
variance  with  your  ideal  of  connubial  bliss  ?  Do  I  look  or  act 
like  a  fitting  bridegroom  for  your  rose-bud  ?  Will  not  the  world 
laugh  at  the  oddly-matched  pair  ?" 

"  Do  you  regard  the  world's  laugh  !"  I  asked 

"For  myself?  No!  But  that  is  jumping  the  question.  You 
Ideas  are  what  I  desire  at  this  moment.  Am  I  not  too  Did  for 
Lilly  ?" 

"  If  she  has  elected  you  of  her  own  free  will  and  choice,  you! 
Vearts  are  the  same  aj?e.  The  arbitrarv  divisions  of  Time  into 


M  O  8  8     8  I  D  E  .  429 

months  and  years  are  disallowed  by  them  What  nave  you  t« 
do  with  these  false  data  ?  Why  mar  your  enjoyment  by  recapit- 
ulating them  ?" 

He  was  silent  and  thoughtful. 

Dreading  a  pause  that  would  give  me  time  for  reflection,  1 
porsued  :  "  Look  at  our  neighbors,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Peyton  !  He 
U  twenty  years  her  senior,  and  no  idealization  of  wedded  blisi 
can  be  more  charming  than  their  real,  every-day  life." 

"  He  was  a  widower,  was  he  not  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Did  he  love  his  first  wife  ?» 

"  Devotedly  ;  and  mourned  her  a  long,  long  time  He  haa 
not  forgotten  her  yet." 

"  There  is,  then,  such  a  thing  as  second  love  ?" 

"  Who*  doubts  it  ?"  was  my  reply. 

I  was  not  embarrassed,  for  I  saw,  each  moment,  how  entire 
iras  the  oblivion,  to  him,  of  our  early  attachment. 

He  reverted  to  the  original  topic,  speaking  softly,  as  in  reve- 
rie. "  She  is  younger  than  myself — much  younger — a  delicate, 
tender  creature  1  It  is  the  old  tale  of  the  ivy  and  the  oak." 

How  thoroughly  I  understood,  at  these  words,  that  he  had 
parted  with  every  memory  of  that  love  ! 

"  The  stalwart  trunk,  roughened  by  countless  winters,  and  the 
frail  creeper  of  one  summer's  growth.  It  loves  the  coarse  bark 
upon  which  it  fastens  itself— does  it  not,  Grace  ?" 

I  did  not  notice  the  slip  of  the  tongue,  although,  up  to  this 
time,  it  had  been  "Miss  Leigh,"  very  rarely  even  "Misg 
Grace." 

Indulging  his  mood,  I  said,  "  It  prefers  it  to  any  other  sup 
port." 

"  Can  it  live  without  a  prop  of  some  kind  ?" 

"  It  was  my  impression  that  it  could  not,"  replied  I,  "  until  a 
year  or  two  ago,  I  saw  a  clump  of  ivy  bushes,  stout  and  upright 


430  M  O  8  8  -  8  I  U  E  . 

which  I  learned  had  been  forced  into  indepen«u-. em  »t  /efaising 
ihein  any  support.  Since  then,  I  nave  been  toll  that  ths 
success  of  such  trials  is  a  familiar  fact  in  the  history  of  the 
plant." 

I  was  getting  very  easy  indeed,  and  quite  surprised  myself  bv 
the  glibness  of  my  tongue.  It  was  a  strange  time  for  the  reci- 
al  of  botanical  phenomena,  but  if  it  pleased  him  to  lead  the 
way  to  them,  it  was  my  business  to  follow. 

"  The  vine  must  have  suffered  intensely  before  the  lesson  was 
perfect,"  he  said,  interested.  "  Think  of  the  vain  reaching  of 
the  tendrils  ;  their  curling  upon  themselves  in  their  hopelessness  ; 
their  shrivelling  away  and  dropping  into  dust  1  It  was  a  cruel 
experiment." 

"It  was  a  hardy  shrub,"  I  answered — "green  and  vigor- 
ous." 

"  But  not  beautiful,  I  should  imagine  ;  a  dwarfed,  stubborn 
apology  for  a  tree  ;  when  if  left  to  Nature's  guidance,  and  not 
repressed  by  untoward  circumstances,  it  might  have  climbed 
almost  to  the  clouds.  It  was  a  cruel  thing  1" 

He  could  mean  nothing  except  what  was  apparent  on  the  sur 
face  of  his  speech.  What  weakness  in  my  heart  to  trace  an 
analogy  between  the  life  of  the  maltreated  vine  and  my  crossed, 
distorted,  "  dwarfed  "  existence  1  It  was  not  so  very  wonderful, 
either,  for  I  remembered,  among  the  incidents  which  had  slided 
forever — clear  out  of  sight — through  his  time-glass,  that  he  had 
once  likened  me  to  the  ivy.  "  Let  it  be  ivy  to  the  last  I"  he 
had  said,  and  I  was — ivy  that  had  been  robbed  of  the  support 
its  branches  implored;  "not  beautiful" — I  allowed  that,  "but 
hardy  !"  I  said,  drawing  in  my  breath,  and  sitting  more  erect 
"  He  shall  see  how  hardy  1" 

Prom  this  digression,  he  returned  suddenly,  as  he  had  from 
•peaking  of  Mr.  Petyon's  second  marriage. 

"Am  I  to  understand.  Miss  Leigh,  that  you  consent,  withco* 


M  O  S  8  -  8  I  D  B  .  43] 

reservation,  to  my  marriage  with  your  niece?  Pardon  my 
abruptness  if  it  appears  to  you  unseemly.  This  is  a  subject  that 
vitally  concerns  my  happiness." 

My  hands  grew  cold  against  one  another  ;  a  premoni-tion  of 
tgue  ran  over,  and  pinched  up  my  flesh. 

"  1  have  already  signified  my  approbation  of  your  suit,  it  may 
«  too  plaiuly;  Mr.  Wynne.  My  father's  consent  is  more  essential." 

"  I  have  conferred  with  him,  of  course.  He  refers  every- 
thing to  you,  as  does  Lilly." 

Much  effort  was  necessary  to  repress  the  visible  signs  of  the 
iciness  that  pervaded  every  limb.  The  fire  sang  and  leaped  and 
roared  up  the  chimney,  and  my  teeth  were  beginning  to  chatter. 
An  odd  fancy  entered  my  brain — odd,  since  it  seemed  an  unapt 
association  of  the  circumstances  in  which  I  was  placed.  I  had 
read  that,  in  some  countries,  criminals  convicted  of  capital 
offences,  were,  on  the  day  of  execution,  compelled  to  sit  upon 
their  coffins,  clothed  for  the  final  scene,  and  hear  a  funeral  ser- 
mon, preceded  or  closed  by  a  reiteration,  at  length,  of  the  for- 
mula of  doom.  I  thought  how  much  more  terrible  would  be 
this  ghastly,  solemn  mockery,  if  the  dying  wretch  were 
required  to  read  his  own  sentence. 

But  here  was  no  criminal  court,  and  the  phrase  I  had  to  speak 
was  the  merest  of  forms.  I  was  a  referee  by  courtesy.  The 
virtual  authorities  had  sat  and  agreed  upon  the  case.  My 
daughter's  declared  and  accepted  admirer,  armed  with  my 
father's  endorsement  of  the  compact,  asked  mine — not  as  a  mea- 
pure  of  additional  surety,  but  to  sgare  my  feelings  and  compli- 
ment my  vanity.  I  did  not  delay  it  one  tenth  of  the  time  it  has 
taken  mo  to  write  down  my  sensations.  Propriety  would  have 
recommended  a  pause  of  the  length  I  made,  ere  I  said,  cautiously, 
lest  my  teeth  should  strike  against  each  other  and  excite  big 
wonderment. 

"  If  my  permissior.  is  all  you  wait  for,  it  is  yours,  Mr.  Wynne 


132  MOSS-BIDE. 

!  dc  not  charge  you  to  be  kind  to  our  precious  Lilly.  Too  can 
mt  be  otherwise." 

He  bowed  in  silent  thanks,  raising  my  hand  to  his  lips  II 
w  is  frozen,  I  knew,  and  I  would  have  abridged  this  useless  cere- 
mony, but  hr  retained  it  in  his. 

"  Grace !" 

It  was  not  the  voice  that  had  conducted  the  previous  conver- 
sation. It  was  a  deeper  tone  ;  the  music  that  had  thrilled  me 
upon  the  hill-side,  that  summer  Christmas-week  ;  that  quieted 
my  stormj  grief  at  our  farewell  ; — never  heard  since — but  oh  ! 
how  well  remembered  ?  I  could  not — I  dared  not  stay  !  I  strag- 
gled for  freedom  with  the  energy  of  expiring  resolution 

"  Grace  1"  he  said  again. 

I  drooped  my  head  and  abandoned  myself  to  his  will. 

"  Have  you  a  practical  faith  in  a  second  love  ?" 

"  No  I"  I  said,  recklessly. 

"  Nor  have  I !  you  have  given  me  a  bonny  bride — young  and 
.ovely — almost  as  lovely  as  the  one  you  pledged  to  me  upon  the 
h.'ll-side  yonder,  that  looked  so  bleak  to  me  to-day.  I  have  been 
there,  Grace,  and  yon  should  have  gone  with  me.  That  day, 
stolen  from  Paradise,  we  lived  eleven  years  ago,  as  I  heard  you 
remind  May  this  noon.  Lover  and  beloved  have  undergone  some 
changes  in  that  period  ;  but  what  did  you  say,  not  ten  minutes 
since  ?  I  am  bent  upon  vanquishing  you  with  your  own  wea- 
pons. '  The  arbitrary  divisions  of  time  into  months  and  years 
are  disallowed  by  loving  hearts.'  Mine  rejects  them.  My  bride 
then  is  the  queen  of  my  affections  this  hour,  as  well." 

Before  I  collected  my  senses,  my  head  rested  upon  his  breast 
where  he  had  laid  it. 

"  If  you  will  have  it,  this  shall  be  your  home — yours  only — 
now  and  forever." 

One  instant — was  I  to  blame  ? — for  one  instant,  it  reposed 
there,  like  a  flower  burdened  with  honey-dew — then  recol 


M  O  8  8  -  8  I  U  E  .  433 

revived ;    prudence  sprang  into   the  field,   ready   for 
battle. 

"  Lilly  !  Lilly  !"  I  cried,  wrenching  myself  loose  from  his 
?rasp.  "  Oh  !  let  me  go  to  her  !  My  poor  child  !  this  will  b« 
her  death-blow  I" 

lie  pinioned  me  with  one  movement  of  his  strong  arm  ;  and  I 
resorted  to  entreaties. 

"  Oh  !  if  you  are  an  honorable  man,  unsay  what  you  have 
toid  me  !  take  it  all  back  I  say  you  were  jesting,  or  wandering 
u.i  mind,  that  you  did  not  mean  it  I" 

"  Never  !"  he  said  resolutely,  not  sternly.  "  I  can  dissipate 
*hese  alarms  by  three  words,  if  you  will  hear  me." 

"  No  !  no  !"  for  I  was  wild  with  terror  and  remorse. 

"  You  will  !  Darling  /" 

I  was  completely  overcome.  A  torrent  of  tears  gushed  forth, 
and  were  wept  out  upon  his  shoulder.  I  could  have  died  hap- 
pily then  and  there. 

"  I  do  not  love  Lilly,  except  as  a  child  sister.  She  leans 
upon  me,  trusts  me  as  her  elder  brother  ;  the  confidant — are 
you  hearing  me,  darling  ? — of  Peyton  Elliott's  love  for  her,  and 
hers  for  him — you  may  well  stare  !  After  your  insinuation  of 
ffaudering  intellects,  I  am  prepared  to  be  charged  with  derange- 
ment as  violent  as  yours  was  just  now.  Look  at  me — feel  my 
pulse — am  I  a  sane  man  ?" 

"  I  believe  so,"  I  said,  so  doubtfully,  that  he  laughed.  Ho 
was  very  serious  a  minute  afterwards. 

"  I  will  trifle  no  more  with  you.  Can  you  forgive  the  decep 
tion  in  which  May,  Lilly,  Peyton,  and  more  recently,  your  father 
*<ere  accomplices,  I  being  the  instigator  and  ring-leader  of  th 
o.'ot  ?" 

"My  father?"  I  uttered  involuntarily,  laying  hold  of  hii 
name  as  something  I  could  not  understand,  in  the  clouded  con 
dition  of  my  faculties. 

19 


134:  MO8S-8IDK. 

"May  enlightened  him  the  afternoon  of  our  ramble.  Will 
you  go  aud  ask  him  if  this  is  so  ?  You  are  at  liberty." 

But  he  was  smiling  again,  in  violation  of  his  promise,  and  my 
inpefaction,  or  some  other  equally  cogent  reason  prevented  me 
*.  om  availing  myself  of  the  offer. 

"  Tell  me  more  I"   I  said. 

"With  all  my  heart,  now  that  you  have  a  lucid  interval 
How  often  must  I  say  over  to  you  that  Peyton  and  Lilly  are  in- 
formally engaged  ;  that  the  witch  was  thinking  of  him,  and 
within  an  ace  of  spoiling  our  drama  by  speaking  out,  owning  up 
repentantly  to  you  last  night,  when  you  were  advocating  my 
cause  ?  By  the  way  " — the  irrepressible  mischief  breaking  out 
once  more — "  let  me  acknowledge  the  favor  before  I  forget  it. 
All  my  rhetoric  and  May's  pleadings  have  been  brought  into  actior 
to  hinder  the  truthful  child  from  going  to  your  confessional. 
Zealous  as  she  was,  from  the  beginning,  in  my  behalf,  she  ha* 
been  sorely  buffeted  by  conscience  on  the  score  of  your  delusion 
I  had  a  hard-fought  conflict  with  her  here  after  dinner.  '  It  was 
wrong,  and  unkind,  and  needless  to  keep  dear  Auntie  longer  in 
the  dark  ;  I  must  expedite  my  declaration,  or  she  would  turn 
State's  evidence,  and  betray  the  conspiracy.'  I  applied  a  seda- 
tive finally,  by  bantering  her  about  the  Simon  Pure,  and  asking 
her  how  his  courtship  was  to  be  conducted  when  the  blind  of 
mine  was  removed.  What  is  it,  love  ?"  as  I  looked  up  in  troubled 
inquiry. 

"  Those  tedious  years  of  absence — your  silence  1  Why  was  I 
not  spared  them  if  you  " 

"  Loved  you  all  the  while  ?"  he  finished  for  me  "  I  wish  tc 
ave  us  both  one  part  of  this  story  to-night.  We  have  had 
uough  'of  trial  aud  myjsterious  suffering.  Let  us  be  happy — un- 
Wtolested  by  unpleasant  reminiscences.  Suffice  it  to  say  that 
antil  the  eve  of  my  departure  from  California,  I  was  ignorant  of 
..ie  removal  of  the  obstacle  between  is,  as  I  was  of  its  charac 


MOSS-BIDE.  435 

ter  1  will  i  elate  to  you  some  day,  the  manner  of  its  discovery 
In  May's  home,  I  found  Lilly.  We  established  a  friendship,  and 
in  process  of  time  a  three-fold  cord  was  formed  :  a  league  for 
the  capture  of  the  citadel  that  had  proved  impregnable  to  a  host 
of  '  irresistibles,'  Mr.  Townley  included.  Some  of  our  manoeuvres 
may  have  appeared  heartless  to  you,  but  believe  me,  they  were 
prosecuted  with  unwillingness,  through  a  strict  sense  of  their 
necessity.  Peyton  wrote  an  explicit  definition  of  his  sentiments 
to  Lilly  a  month  ago,  unable,  he  protested,  to  languish  in  sus- 
pense until  her  return.  May,  the  Napoleon  of  our  cabal,  seized 
upon  this  opportune  engine,  and  Lilly,  by  her  instructions,  for- 
warded to  the  impatient  Elliott  a  schedule  of  our  policy,  and 
commissioned  him  to  spy  out  the  ground  in  advance  of  our  arri- 
val. His  kind  heart  would  have  defeated  the  plan,  but  for  the 
spirit  of  fun  which  abetted  his  anxiety  to  obey  the  orders  of  hia 
lady-love.  Letters  from  May  and  Lilly  opened  our  attack,  and 
since  we  have  been  here,  not  an  act  or  a  word  from  any  of  us 
has  been  destitute  of  meaning  and  aim.  All  have  had  a  bearing 
upon  our  object.  If  there  remained  a  dormant  regard  for  me  in 
your  heart,  jealousy  was  the  surest  touchstone  to  bring  forth 
some  sign  of  it.  My  intention  to  wed  another  would  strike  the 
dart  home  more  certainly  than  any  other  event.  I  doubt  if 
death  itself  would  be  so  powerful  in  arousing  the  sleeping  emo- 
tion. You  were  stronger  than  we  had  anticipated.  If  there 
were  indications  of  surrender  the  day  before,  your  aspect  yester- 
day  and  this  morning  dashed  our  rising  spirits.  Victory  waa 
not  to  be  purchased  by  delay— that  was  evident.  I  resolved  to 
Hazard  all  upon  one  bold  effort." 

Hia  pleasantry  had  produced  the  desired  effect  of  banishing 
uy  agitation,  and  setting  me  at  ease  in  his  presence  Exchang- 
ing his  jesting  for  earnest  affection,  he  continued  :  ''  Be  it  my 
task  tc  compensate  to  you  for  what  T  have  made  you  endura 
to-night  '  Unselfish  heroism  ;  love,  refined  from  all  impuritie?  • 


436  M  O  8  8  -  5  I  D  E  . 

H  constant  sml-cry  to  heaven  for  snccor — these  have  supported 
jrou  through  the  ordeal.  Let  me  say,  '  ordeal  !'  A  squeamish 
coyness  was  never  one  of  your  traits,  and  we  can  afford  to  dis- 
pense with  the  affectation  of  reserve.  You  loved  me,  unknown, 
it  may  be,  to  yourself,  while  I  feigned  allegiance  to  another 
Sucb  abnegation  of  self,  such  fixedness  of  purpose  to  promote 
the  happiness  of  a  beloved  one,  I  have  never  beheld  before  ;  I 
trust  never  to  undergo  so  much  in  beholding  its  like  again 
When  I  drew  out  the  reeking  blade  to  plunge  it  anew  into  your 
heart,  did  you  think  I  was  the  forgetful  trifler  I  appeared  ;  that 
I  did  not  wince  at  every  stroke  I  inflicted  ?  could  you  believe 
that  every  incident,  every  word  of  our  '  long  ago,'  was  more 
dear  to,  more  valued  byf  you  than  by  me  ?  Yours  has  been  a 
thorny  way  since  we  parted  last,  beloved." 

"  It  has  had  some  flowers  in  it,"  I  smiled  through  my  tears 
"  Because  you  set  the  roots,  scattered  the  seed  weepingly,"  he 
replied.     "  You  will  yet  bind  up  from  them  more,  and  precious 
blossoms," 

There  was  a  fumbling  at  the  lock  of  the  door ;  a  stick  ol 
wood  was  dropped  upon  the  hall-floor,  with  deafening  concussion. 
Joe,  considering  us  by  this  time  properly  apprised  of  his  con^ 
templated  intrusion,  entered  to  replenish  the  fire,  and  inform  us, 
in  his  peculiar  style,  that  "tea  awaited  our  demands/'  With 
all  his  gallant  devotion  to  the  fair  sex,  our  beau-footman  had 
passed  twenty  and  neared  his  thirties,  a  bachelor.  He  was 
divided  between  a  philanthropic  wish  to  gratify  all  the  ladies  by 
his  society,  and  a  natural  disposition  to  secure  the  greatest  pos 
sible  quantity  of  felicity  for  himself,  which  consummation,  he 
maintained,  in  his  orthodoxy,  was  attainable  solely  by  marriage. 
A  connoisseur  in  love-affairs,  he  forwarded  them  by  whatever 
moans  lay  in  his  power.  1  saw,  at  once,  that  we  were  upon  his 
list  and  received  under  his  benign  protection.  His  addresi 
accorded  with  this  benevolent  patronage.  It  was  compounded 


MOSS-SIDE.  437 

of  approbation  of  our  exemplary  employment ;  regret  that  his 
duty  to  interrapt  ns  was  imperative,  and  a  kind  of  general  know- 
nothing  and  see-nothing  air,  that  without  approximation  to  sta 
pidity  was  to  compose  our  disordered  wits  and  sustain  us  to  con 
front  the  eyes  of  the  rest  of  the  world. 

Peyton  Elliott  had  a  seat  at  the  board,  having  come  HI 
noiselessly  just  after  Lilly  left  the  parlor.  Even  he  was  chary 
of  significant  glances,  absolutely  guiltless  of  spoken  innuendoes 
This  evening  also,  the  tall  coffee  and  tea-urns  were  towers  of 
refuge  to  me.  Behind  them,  with  the  cups  and  saucers  as  rest- 
ing-places for  my  eyes,  my  flushed  cheeks  cooled,  and  I  was  col- 
lected, if  not  staidly  sensible,  all  through  the  meal,  which  I  did 
not  taste. 

Peyton  lagged  behind  the  others  on  their  way  out. 

"  Auntie  dear  !"  he  whispered.  "  I  wanted  you  to  espouse 
the  cause  of  him  you  loved  most.  You  were  set  upon  neutrality. 
Is  this  best  preserved  by  espousing  the  man,  instead  ?  How  1 
hate  him  for  ;ilting  poor,  dear  lally.  Don't  you  ?" 


438  M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  « . 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

Tt*  Afniling  iLonmg  was  looking  in  at  my  windows,  when  th« 
f&ttl:n.«r  roar  of  the  Christmas  gun  chased  away  my  dreams.  11 
did  not  ^artle  Lilly,  and  turning  over  towards  her,  I  went  back 
(well-trod'lon,  1  found  the  path  1)  to  my  spring-time,  to  the  sha- 
dowed valley,  for  which  I  left  its  light  and  bloom  ;  the  narrow 
track  that  delivered  me  from  the  dank  darkness. 

"  Does  much  of  the  dust  of  those  years  of  travel  soil  me  ?"  I 
wondered.  "  Have  I  changed  as  little  in  his,  as  he  has  in  my 
eyes?  Women  show  age  sooner  than  men.  Youth  is  very 
beautiful,  very  lovable,  yet  would  I  recall  mine  ?" 

I  weighed  the  question  carefully. 

"  Flowers  or  fruits — April  or  September  ?"  Thus  it  resolved 
itself  at  length  ;  and  the  small,  white  fingers  stirred  upon  my 
heart  as  their  owner  awoke  to  kiss  me — "  our  merriest  Christ- 
mas, dear  Auntie  I" 

Our  visitors  came  early ;  Mrs.  Bell,  Annie,  Mr.  Peyton  and 
the  three  children,  with  Peyton  Elliott  in  the  rear  of  the  pro- 
cession. And  we  did  have  the  merriest  Christmas  that  ever 
shook  the  floors  and  echoed  from  the  walls  of  the  old  home- 
stead !  Tables  groaned,  and  we  laughed  unfeelingly  over  their 
agony  ;  there  were  romps  and  baby-games  in  the  hall  and  din 
ing-room  ;  Lilly  and  Peyton  hunted  up  the  identical  battle-doo 
end  shuttle-cock  with  which  they  had  fought  away  the  shynesi 
of  their  first  day's  intercourse  ;  and  battered  as  was  the  one, 
frayed  and  moth-eaten  as  was  the  other,  they  did  service  still 
7  %ey  appeared  to  have  caught  the  spirit  of  the  times,  as  thej 


MOSS-BIDE.  438 

beat  and  whizzed  through  the  air  past  the  ancient  sentinel 
whose  rustv  hands  still  journeyed  by  the  hours  we  did  not  pre- 
tend to  regard  ;  while  from  its  roomy  chest,  wheel,  lever,  and 
hammer  still  grumbled  their  misery  over  the  internal  convulsion 
regular  and  violent  as  ever,  in  their  periodical  attacks 

There  was  no  parlor-company.  We  roamed  from  one  apart 
ment  to  another,  as  inclination  and  the  children  tempted  us 
My  father  and  Mr.  Peyton  did  not  even  remain  stationary  for 
their  after-dinner  smoke;  but  might  be  traced  in  entry,  chambel 
and  porch,  by  the  circling  incense  and  the  cheerful  murmur  of 
.  their  voices.  Fires  blazed  in  every  room,  for  it  was  clearly,  bit 
ingly  cold  without ;  a  genuine  old-fashioned  Christmas  holiday  ; 
alive,  from  sun-rise  to  sun-down,  with  jollity,  good-will  and  peaca 

I  propitiated  Martha  by  donning  the  "  decenter  "  robe  of  he\ 
selection,  and  submitting  to  Lilly's  hair-dressing  ;  freed  from 
which,  I  reviewed  myself  in  the  glass,  a  youngish  face  and 
figure,  after  all,  or,  if  elderly,  tolerably  well-preserved.  My 
complexion  was  healthy,  to  say  no  more,  and  to-day  was  brighter 
than  usual ;  my  hair  luxuriant  and  glossy,  my  teeth  unimpaired, 
my  eyes  unfaded.  Not  elate,  but  comfortable  in  this  appre- 
ciation of  my  charms,  I  did  not  torment  myself  by  a  conti- 
nuation of  the  queries  of  the  morning  while  the  festivity 
reigned. 

It  was  when  the  Linden  family,  Peyton  Elliott  excepted,  were 
gone,  and  the  parlor  was  given  up  to  our  two  selves  and  the  fire- 
flashes,  that  I  asked  Herbert  some  plain,  matter-of-fact  qnes 
tions. 

"  Did  yen  never  fear  before  you  came  South  this  time,  that  I 
had  grcwn  elderly  and  homely?  What  would  have  been  tho 
effect  of  the  transformation  upon  you  ?" 

"  You  have  altered  "—he  rejoined,  "  altered  greatly  1" 

My  vanity  folded  its  feathered  train,  and  skulked  precipitate!) 
iDto  the  dust-hole. 


440  MOSS-SIDE. 

"  I  was  prepared,  however,  to  see  you  as  you  are.  Lilly  I-AV 
ried  your  daguerreotype  to  New  York  with  her,  and  the  sun  u 
an  unflattering  artist." 

Then  I  wished,  with  unavailing  longing,  for  the  vernal  season 
•%nd  the  flowers. 

"  And  why  1"  I  said,  mentally,  my  heart  risiug  at  the  thought 
"My  love  is  as  fervent,  and  more  thoroughly  grounded  than 
when  he  first  sought  it  ;  my  heart  as  unwithered.  Impulse  haf 
ripened  into  principle  ;  passion  into  fidelity.  Is  it,  indeed,  as  I 
feared  ?  Can  he  never  again  feel  for  me  exactly  as  he  did 
then  ?" 

I  said  as  much,  when  cross-examined,  to  him  ;  eyes  moist  and 
voice  quavering.  He  attempted  no  further  sportiveness  ;  bu> 
taking  up  the  thought  I  had  let  slip,  he  proved  to  me  how  it 
wronged  him  and  myself ;  how  willful  seemed  my  misconstrue! ion 
of  his  language. 

"  There  are  alterations  more  material  than  the  fading  of  the 
rose  and  the  sallowness  of  the  lily.  Did  I  not  say  to  you,  when 
the  glow  of  our  former  plighting  was  warmest,  that  you  had 
faults  ?  indicate,  as  one,  your  inability  to  bear  sorrow  ?  predict 
the  wrestling  of  your  undisciplined  spirit  with  the  storm,  I  did 
not  think  then,  could  so  speedily  overtake  you  ?  Was  not  thi» 
verified  to  the  letter  ?  Now — mark  me  I  I  neither  suggest  nor 
warn.  Instead,  I  would  learn  of  you  " 

I  put  my  hand  before  his  mouth.     "  Please  do  not  talk  so  !" 

"  I  have  done  !  Best  assured  that  you  have  lost  nothing,  and 
gained  all  you  needed  ;  that  the  wife  must  ever  be  dearer  than 
the  betrothed  bride." 

A.  blessed,  soul-fraught  pause  to  me,  was  that  which  ensued  I 
lie  spoke  again  in  a  graver,  yet  still  tender  tone. 

"  We  have  been  very  happy  to-day,  dear  Grace.  Will  yoc 
complain  if  I  damp  your  joyfulness  for  a  time— add  a  sprig  of  ru« 
to  the  bouquet  of  your  pleasures  ?" 


MOSS-SID*.  443 

1  was  pale  with  incertitude  ;  cowardly  from  past  reverses. 

"  It  is  nothing  of  recent  occurrence,"  he  said,  kindly  ;  "  onlj 
a  missing  leaf  from  the  volume  of  my  history,  which  I  refused  to 
show  you  yesterday.  Grace,  May  was  faithful  to  the  trust  of 
the  family  secret  you  disclosed  to  her.  It  was  not  from  her  lipg 
tiat  I  obtained  the  knowledge  of  my  parentage." 

I  started.  The  skeleton  again  !  would  it  never,  never  be 
buried  out  of  my  sight ! 

"  I  had  been  trained  to  mourn  a  dead  father.  I  have  a  death- 
less recollection  of  my  mother's  weeping  over  me,  as  her  '  father- 
less child  ;'  of  her  commending  me  to  the  orphan's  God.  Thai 
her  husband  died  at  a  distance  from  her  and  home,  and  that  tha 
particulars  of  his  end  were  transmitted  to  her  by  strangers ;  how 
she  pined  into  the  grave,  of  a  broken  heart — these  were  among  tha 
lessons  taught  me  by  the  aunt  who  had  nursed  her  in  her  last  sick- 
ness and  who  adopted  me  as  her  own  son.  Mr.  Wynne,  her  hus- 
band, bad  never  seen  my  father,  and  was  gratified  by  my  mother'* 
dying  request  that  I  should  assume  the  name  of  my  generous  guar- 
dians. I  do  not  like  to  reflect  upon  this  significant  circumstance 
It  was  not  surprising  to  them  ;  yet  I  cannot  but  feel  that  if  tha 
•orrow  that  killed  her  had  been  regret  for  the  untimely  end  of 
one  she  loved — alas  !  too  well — she  would  never  have  consented 
that  his  son  should  resign  his  title — all  which  now  preserved  his 
memory.  How  much  of  the  truth  she  knew,  is  left  to  conjecture. 
Sure  am  I — too  sure — that  she  realized  how  little  reason  I  would 
ever  have  to  value  the  discarded  appellation  ;  that  the  grave 
was  an  inviting  pillow,  and  the  hope  of  the  rest  beyond  the  gate 
all  that  sustained  her,  during  the  season  of  her  worse  than  wid- 
whood.  I  bless  God  that  Death  was  speedy  and  merciful  1 

"  How  I  grew  up  in  utter  ignorance  of  the  mystery  that  cur- 
tained my  cradle,  I  cannot  understand.  No  memory,  no  spirifr 
impresston  whispered  to  m«  of  its  gloom.  I  told  my  story,  as  I 
believed  it,  in  a  careless,  straight-forward  way  to  any  wh« 


442  M  O  8  8-8  I  D  K. 

chanced  to  discover  that  I  was  not  Mr.  Wynne's  ion.  My  aunt'i 
death  strengthened  the  bond  between  me  and  this  solitary  friend 
of  my  boyhood.  I  described  to  you,  long  ago,  his  second  wife's 
politic  complaisance  and  my  meagre  affection  for  her.  My  sisteru 
were  very  dear  to  me  ;  Louise,  especially,  was  my  chosen  coiih 
panion  and  intimate,  while  she  continued  to  be  a  woman. 
Now  » 

"  Never  mind  I  We  will  spare  her  1"  I  prevented  the  criti- 
cism foreshadowed  in  eye  and  lip. 

He  bowed,  and  went  on.  "  Mrs.  Wynne  is  uninformed  on  the 
subject  of  my  antecedents  ;  or,  I  have  confidence  in  her  skill  and 
economy  to  feel  certain  that  she  would  never  have  suffered  such 
material  for  my  debasement  to  lie  in  disuse.  My  adopted  father 
is  prudent,  and  he  hid  his  knowledge  of  the  dangerous  secret 
from  her  as  sedulously  and  successfully  as  from  me.  Latterly,  at 
my  earnest  solicitation,  he  has  confessed  that  strange  rumors 
reached  him,  prior  and  subsequent  to  my  mother's  decease  ; 
stories,  that  begot  in  him  a  doubt  of  the  correctness  of  the  ac- 
count she  had  received  of  her  husband's  life  and  its  close.  He 
reasoned  prudently  that  no  benefit  to  me  could  result  from  pro- 
secuting inquiries  on  this  head,  and  allowed  the  matter  to  rest 
there.  You  were  cognizant  of  my  introduction  to  Mr.  Dumont, 
and  the  nature  of  our  intercourse  at  that  time.  Six  years  later, 
I  met  him  in  the  society  to  which  Louise's  favor  was  his  pass- 
port. He  fascinated  me,  as  by  magnetic  attraction.  I  derived 
singular  delight  from  his  presence  and  conversation  ;  and  he  re- 
ciprocated, in  every  company  and  all  seasons,  the  preference  I 
manifested.  I  did  not  agree  with  him  in  many  sentiments  ;  was 
averse  to  many  of  his  habits  of  language  and  conduct ;  I  divined 
bis  want  of  deep  feeling,  his  passion — if  he  had  a  passion — fot 
novelty  and  excitement  ;  yet  I  admired  him  intellectually,  and 
•ought  him,  in  spite  of  my  better  reason.  His  was  the  last  hand 
I  took,  in  sorrowful  adieu,  when  I  embarked  for  California  ;  hia 


V  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  E  .  443 

*h«  last  signal  waved  me  from  the  wharf  A  month  before  I  left 
thai  country — within  the  summer  that  has  just  gone— V  was 
summoned,  at  the  dead  of  night,  to  the  bedside  of  a  man  who 
had  been  fatally  stabbed  in  an  affray  at  a  gambling  saloon.  Yoi 
may  conceive  what  was  my  horror  on  finding  in  him,  Mr.  Dr 
raont — no  mortal  can  form  any  conception  of  the  emotions  with 
which  I  hearkened  to  the  tale  he  insisted  upon  recounting. 

"  That  death-bed  1  my  father's  death-bed,  Grace  !  I  cannot 
speak  of  it  1" 

It  was  now  my  place  to  be  comforter.  Trembling  woman, 
though  I  was,  I  could  support  and  console  him.  He  thanked  me 
when  the  strong  shuddering  was  over. 

"  My  angel  of  healing  1"  he  said. 

No  peerage  coronet  could  have  won  from  me  the  title  ! 

"  You  have  had  the  wild,  sad  story  in  detail  from  your  father," 
pursued  Herbert.  "  The  sketch  given  to  me,  while  life  flowed 
from  the  narrator  with  every  breath,  made  my  soul  sick,  my 
brain  reel.  That  the  sins  of  the  father  had  been  visited  upon 
his  offspring  was  nothing  to  the  thought  of  the  woe  he  had  in- 
flicted upon  others  ;  the  desolated  hearth-stones,  the  murdered 
happiness  ;  the  sacrifice  of  innocent  victims  to  his  cupidity  and 
revenge — added  up  in  the  sum  of  his  crimes.  It  was  horrible  I 
He  had  seen  my  attachment  to  you  in  the  course  of  the  day  or 
two  we  travelled  together,  and  then  was  laid  the  scheme  to  frns« 
trate  its  end.  His  animosity  against  your  father  was  unabated 
to  the  last  ;  yet  Remorse  scourged  him  to  a  revelation  of  his 
agency  in  the  destruction  of  our  dream  of  love. 

"  It  was  an  unpropitious  fate  for  us,  an  auspicious  one  for  hi-r 
designs,  that  threw  him,  after  he  separated  from  our  party,  into 
the  company  of  Mr.  Townley.  He  did  not  scruple  to  use  this 
contemptible  instrument.  Let  our  trying  age  of  estrangement 
bear  testimony  to  the  efficacy  of  the  means  employed.  He  eli- 
cited, from  Louise,  information  that  notif  ed  him  of  his  success 


444  M  O  8  8  -  8  I  D  E  . 

He  talked  with  you  of  me,  and  exulted  in  the  confusion  wbick 
betokened  a  spirit  wrung  by  anguish,  and  an  undying  interest  in 
the  lover  of  your  happier  days  ;  for,  darling — unoffending  dov€ 
as  you  were,  your  father  had  been  his  foe  1  Towards  me,  he  ex 
perienced  some  natural  drawing  of  heart,  something  akin  U 
affection,  but  it  was  not  paternal  tenderness.  He  had  accident- 
ally seen  me  in  a  public  thoroughfare  the  day  preceding  bin 
death,  had  inquired  of  an  acquaintance  where  I  was  lodging, 
and  determined  to  pay  me  a  visit  at  an  early  opportunity.  We 
met  sooner  than  he  expected. 

"  That  is  all,  dear  Grace.  I  do  not  lament  the  loss,  to  my- 
self, of  a  parent  who  deserted  me  in  my  helpless  infancy  ;  who 
was  the  assassin  of  my  mother  ;  who,  without  relenting,  crashed 
my  dearest  hope  in  life,  to  gratify  his  enmity  of  an  innocent  man. 
I  am  humbled,  ashamed  to  look  my  fellow-creatures  in  the  face, 
when  I  remember  whose  blood  courses  in  my  veins  ;  I  do  mourn 
that  his  guilt  was  so  great,  and — my  own  beloved  1  you  appre- 
ciate the  unspeakable  torture  that  attends  upon  the  idea  of  hu 
awfully  sudden  call  to  a  world  of  judgment.  Heaven  knowi 
what  I  suffered  while  I  saw  him  die — what  I  have  suffered 
since  I" 

"  We  will  never  speak — will  never,  if  we  can  avoid  it,  think 
of  this  strange,  dark  history  again,"  I  said.  "  Let  us  rejoice  in 
the  light  that  almost  '  at  evening-time,'  has  visited  us  I" 

His  features  settled  peacefully,  as  I  tried  to  comfort  him,  to 
exorcise  the  troubling  spirit. 

"  At  evening-time  V  he  said,  by  and  by.  "  We  are  just  enter- 
ing upon  a  gladly  bright  morning." 

Then  we  were  still. 

The  fire  sang  a  low,  but  merry  strain,  the  embers  changed 
from  red  to  white,  and  back  to  red,  with  the  consuming  heat, 
and  then  tinkled  into  ashes.  The  quaint  chairs  danced  in  their 
several  places,  in  the  wickedly  mischievous  gleams  of  rising 


MOBS-SIDE.  44& 

flame.     Christmas  fairies  sported  in  every  corner,  tripped  in  the 
magic  ring  to  the  chirp  of  the  cricket. 

There  were  sprites,  as  active  and  as  gay,  at  work  in  the  long- 
closed  chamber  of  my  heart,  sweeping  away  its-  dust  and  cob- 
webs ;  purifying  the  airless  tomb  with  morning  breezes  and 
norning  sunshine.  Finally,  they  tore  away  the  hatchment  above 
the  door,  that  proclaimed  it  desolate  by  the  death  of  hope,  and 
he  room  was  readv  for  its  master. 


M  O  8  8-  8  I  D  B 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

been  u  wife  for  one  year,  aud  again,  1  muse  in  the  twi 
ugnt. 

But  now  it  is  summer  weather,  flowery  June,  as  one  might 
know  from  this  purplish  light ;  the  love-souvenir,  with  which  the 
sun  endows  his  most  favorite  month,  over  which  her  nights 
dream,  as  her  days  rejoice.  It  should  be  perfumed  light,  for  the 
air  holds,  not  breathes,  fragrance  as  pervasive  and  delicate  as  its 
blush.  Through  the  windows,  open  to  the  floor,  I  overlook  our 
cottage-garden,  with  its  modest  wealth  of  flowers  ;  next,  a  quiet 
village  street  lined  by  trees,  its  white  houses  set  back,  each  in  a 
green  covert  of  its  own  ;  and  beyond,  there  are  glimmerings 
like  the  shimmer  of  sun-darts  upon  a  silver  mirror.  There  rolls,  in 
tranquil  majesty,  the  monarch  of  Northern  rivers,  whose  dig- 
nity they  asperse,  instead  of  extol,  who  name  it  "  the  Rhine  of 
America  ;"  its  broad  bosom  heaving  in  the  repose  of  conscious 
might,  its  waves  breaking,  like  the  ripples  of  an  inland  lake, 
against  ramparts  adamantine  in  strength,  Titanic  in  propor- 
tions. 

It  is  a  cozy  room  in  which  I  am  sitting.  The  furniture, 
although  not  elaborate  in  quantity  or  style,  would  not  corres- 
pond with  the  antique  simplicity  of  Moss-side.  Yet  there  is  one 
thing  which  you,  my  reader-friend,  have  seen  before.  The  pale 
girl,  with  prayerful  eyes,  gases  upward  from  the  wall  over  tha4 
reading-chair,  which  will  not  be  empty  many  minutes  lougei 


MOSS-SIDE.  447 

The  bands  of  the  clock  are  nearing  the  most  welcome  hour  of 
the  day  wi<h  me — that  which  declares  that  the  day  if 
done. 

The  wife  <  f  a  year  !  The  fairies  are  very  busy  as  I  think  this 
icntence.  It  is  a  hint  to  them  to  draw  forth  and  spread,  ia 
grand  array,  the  treasures  accumulated  in  the  chamber  they 
found  so-  empty  two  winters  agone.  Brave  riches  they  are 
which  they  disentomb  from  the  coffers  !  Every  day  has  there 
Diementoes,  more  precious  than  diamonds  ;  there  are  strings  of 
pearls,  linked  hours  of  unbroken  bliss  ;  and  the  pure  gold  of 
affection  knows  neither  flaw  nor  stain.  My  constant  prayer  is 
that  the  wondrous  beauty  of  earthly  gifts  may  not  weaken  the 
eye  which  would  look  beyond  them,  to  the  giver  ;  would  survey 
them  as  earnests  of  life  and  love  and  home,  as  far  more  excel- 
'ent  than  this  abundant  happiness,  as  this  transcends  the  most 
gloomy  pass  of  my  journey  hitherto. 

On  the  table  there  lies  a  daintily-shaped  black  glove,  toe 
email  for  my  hand.  May  lost  it  here  to-day,  which  she  spent 
Trith  me.  I  found  it  but  a  minute  since,  after  she  had  gone. 
$he  will  call  for  it  again  soon,  for  she  is  as  often  with  us  as  in 
icr  home-proper.  Loving,  bright-tempered,  deep  in  heart  and 
thought,  she  is  still  my  soul-sister,  doubly  beloved,  that  she 
aided  in  the  establishment  of  what  I  now  enjoy. 

Last  Christmas,  we  all  assembled  at  Moss-side,  as  we  shall 
continue  to  do,  from  year  to  year,  while  our  father  lives.  His 
robust  health  gives  no  sign  of  failing,  his  mind  is  vigorous  ag 
ever,  his  heart  overflows  with  love  to  God  and  to  man,  his  faith 
g  perfected  "  so  as  by  fire."  He  misses  me  yet,  he  says,  and  1 
ore  to  believe  it ;  knowing,  as  I  do,  that  it  is  a  want  of  the 
affections  only,  since  in  his  outward  estate,  nothing  is  lacking 
that  could  conduce  to  his  happiness.  He  has  a  gallant,  trusts 
worthy  son,  erer  at  band,  with  whom  to  advise,  upon  whom  to 


MOSS-SIDE. 

lean.  The  generous,  gay-spirited  boy  has  learned  many  lessoui 
m  domestic  virtue  and  piety  from  his  wife. 

I  smile  as  I  apply  to  Lilly  the  term,  that  sits  well,  with  my 
thirty-second  year,  upon  me.  Her  marriage  was  deferred  for 
ffcveral  months  after  mine  took  place,  until  Peyton  was  ready  ti 
tuke  possession  of  Moss-side  as  part  owner  and  sole  manager  of 
he  plantation.  This  has  been  enlarged  by  the  addition  of  • 
valuable  adjoining  tract  ;  a  wedding-present  from  Mr.  Peyton  to 
his  na  no-sake,  and  which  was  formerly  attached  to  the  Linden 
domain. 

Mrs.  Bell  went  to  her  rest  last  year.  By  her  request,  she  was 
laid,  not  beside  her  husband,  in  the  ground  now  owned  by 
stranger  3 ;  nor  yet,  with  the  still-remembered  "  Mary,"  in  the 
dutifully-tended  "  God's  acre,"  of  Linden,  but  upon  the  knoll 
above  the  spring,  at  the  old  brown  cottage,  close  to  two  other 
mounds,  marked  by  plain  head-stones  and  inscribed  with  texts 
of  Scripture.  Over  against  the  older  and  shorter  is  written, 
"  Well  done  thou  good  and  faithful  servant  1"  over  the  other — 
"  Mine  eyes  have  seen  Thy  salvation."  They  were  old  Zack'a 
dying  words,  as  they  had  been  his  wife's.  There,  mistress  and 
servants,  they  sleep,  near  where  they  labored  in  concert.  United 
they  were,  in  prosperity  and  adversity,  here.  In  the  change- 
less day  of  their  everlasting  home,  they  walk  in  company — friends 
and  equals  in  the  sight  of  angels  and  of  Him  who  created 
and  who  redeemed  them.  Together,  they  bore  the  heat  and 
burden  of  the  day  ;  together,  they  reap  their  exceeding  great 
reward. 

The  Townleys  were  at  my  marriage  ;  and  from  no  other  guest 
lid  I  receive  a  more  affable  and  elaborate  congratulation 
than  from  the  lawyer-brother.  He  had  had  his  plans,  and  the 
day  of  their  triumph.  No  principle  of  his  nature  or  policy  bada 
him  trumpet  their  defeat  by  exposing  his  chagrin.  He  repra 


MObS-SIDE. 


Ms  county  in  the  Legislature  last  winter  ;  he  will 
"  run  "  for  Senator  of  his  District  the  coming  Fall,  and  the 
opposition  will  be  slight,  for  he  is  a  "  popular  man." 

I  move  my  chair  impatiently  at  thoughts,  which  my  presea 
Lappinese  cannot  quite  teach  me  to  discard.  Au  aromatic  sig'i 
from  a  vase  of  flowers  upon  the  stand  I  have  jostled  remind! 
me  of  their  donor.  Mr.  Wilson  brought  them  up  to  me,  last 
evening,  when  he  accompanied  Herbert  out  of  town  to  tea. 
He  is  often  our  guest,  but  visits  nowhere  else  voluntarily,  and 
without  his  lady. 

She  is  true  to  the  letter  of  her  obligations  to  him,  and  th« 
most  approved  moral  code  of  appearances,  in  always  requiring 
his  escort  in  public.  She  furthermore  defers  to  the  law  of 
the  land  and  the  general  sentiment  of  the  community  by  con- 
tinuing to  reside  under  his  roof  ;  to  eat  of  his  bread  and  dispose 
of  his  money  ;  while  she  battles  with  pen  and  tongue,  in  print 
and  in  parlors,  for  "  Woman's  independence  ;"  her  "  rights  of 
property  and  suffrage,"  and  "  the  sovereign,  undisputed  mainte- 
nance of  her  absolute  individuality." 

Her  Howard's  Gallic-Swiss  governess  is  superseded  by  a 
foreign  tutor  of  equally  ambiguous  nationality.  The  boy  is  a 
prodigy  of  genius  and  learning,  Louise  tells  us.  I  would  love 
him  better  if  he  had  been  taught  to  practise  the  fifth  command- 
ment. I  question  if  he  ever  so  much  as  read  it  ;  for  in  his 
mother's  "Age  of  Progress,"  these  p/imitive  land-marks  are 
left  far  behind. 

She  was  disappointed  in  her  brother's  choice  of  a.  partner. 
Mrs.  Wynne  the  elder  took  pains  that  I  should  not  live  and  die 
in  ignorance  of  this,  which  was  no  news  to  me.  I  am  "  anti- 
quated in  my  tenets,"  my  sister-in-law  says  —  "  utterly  devoid  of 
the  progressive  anima  ;"  "  content  to  live  forever  in  my  hus- 
band's shadow  ;  to  own  him  as  authority  for  doctrine  ;  dictate* 
rf  action  ;  liege  of  my  person,  possessions  and  will." 


i5C  '    M  O  8  S  -  S  I  D  E  . 

How  proudly  I  plead  "  Guilty  I"  to  each  count  of  this  indict 
raent,  let  every  loving  wife  reply  While  the  sap  stirs  in  tin 
heart  of  the  princely  oak,  let  the  ivy  cling  and  climb,  closer  and 
yet  more  close  to  its  Heaven-lent  support ;  drink  of  the  show 
ITS  that  refresh  it  ;  flourish  in  its  sunlight,  and  at  last,  in  th 
F«Uh«r'n  "own  good  time,"  He  down  with  it  in  the  dust  t 


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ith's   Novels. 
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..  I  50 

•  ••     75 
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..  I  50 
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1  

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oo 
oo 

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00 

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5° 
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75 

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75 
75 

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To-day.                                     Do. 

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75 

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75 

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5° 
50 

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Thick  and  Thin  —  Mery  

5° 

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So  Fair  yet  False  —  (.'hnvette  

5° 

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5° 

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Marguerite's  Journal—  For  Girls. 

5° 

Braxton's  Bar—  R.  M.  Daggctt.  ..       50 

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5° 

Miss  Beck-By  Tilbury  Holt.  50 
Sub  Rosa  -By  Chas.  T.  Murray...        50 

P  pell-Bound  —  Alexandre  Dumas.  . 
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75 
5° 

Hilda  and  I  -'Mrs.  Be  te'l  Benjamin       50 

Pauline's  Trial—  L.  D.  Courtney. 

5° 

A  College  Widow  -C.  H.Seymour       50 
Shiftless  Folks—  Fannie  Smith....       50 

The  Forgiving  Kiss—  M.  Loth  
Loyal  unto  Death  

75 
50 

Peace  Pelican.               Do.        ....       50 
Price  of  a  Life—  R.  Forbes  Sturgis.       50 
Hidden  Power—  T.  H.  Tibbies.  ...       50 

Fairfax—  By  John  Esten  Cooke.  .  .  . 
Hilt  to  Hilt.                    Do  

So 
50 
50 

Two  of  Us—  Calista  Halsey.    .....       75 

Out  of  the  Foam.          Do. 

5° 

Cupid  on  Crutches—  A.  B.  Wood.       75 

Hammer  and  Rapier.  Do. 

50 

ParsonThorne—  E.M.  Buckingham       so 

Kenneth—  By  Miss  Sallie  A.  Brock. 

75 

Marston  Hall—  L.  Ella  Byrd  50 
Errors  —  By  Ruth  Carter  50 

Heart  Hungry.  Mrs.  Westmoreland 
Clifford  Troupe.               Do. 

5° 
5° 

Unmistakable  Flirtation—  Garner      75 

Silcott  Mill—  Maria  D.  Deslonde. 

50 

Wild  Oats  —  Florence  Marryatt  ...        50 

John  Maribel.            Do. 

5° 

Widow  Cherry—  B.  L.  Farjeon  ...       »s 
Solomon  Isaacs.        Do.            ...       50 

Conquered  —  l!y  a  New  Author... 
Tales  from  the  Popular  Operas 

50 
50 

Doctor  Mortimer—  Fannie  Bean..       50 

Edith  Murray  —  Joanna  Klathews 

5° 

Two  Brides-Bernard  O'Reilly...       50 
Vesta  Vane  —  L.  Kins,  R  50 

San  Miniato—  Mrs.  C.V.  Hamilton 
All  for  Her—  A  Tale  of  New  York 

oo 
5° 

Louise  and  I—  Bv  Cha».  Dodge..  .       50 

All  for  Him—  Author  "All  for  Her." 

5° 

My  Queen—  By  Sandette  50 

For  Each  Other.          Do. 

50 

Fallen  among  Thieves—  Rayne.  .       50 

Walworth's  Novels—  Six  vols.  ... 

75 

CHARLES   DICKENS'   WORKS. 

A  NEW        l  EDITION. 


Amonf  the  many  editions  of  the  works  of  this  greatest  o/ 
English  Novelists,  there  has  not  been  until  now  one  that  entirely 
satisfies  the  public  demand.  —  Without  exception,  they  each  have 
wime  stiong  distinctive  objection,  —  either  the  form  and  dimen- 
sions of  the  volumes  are  unhandy  —  or,  the  type  is  small  am} 
indistinct  —  or,  the  illustrations  are  unsatisfactory  —  or,  the  bind- 
ing is  poor  —  or,  the  price  is  too  high. 

An  entirely  new  edition  is  now,  however,  published  by  G.  \V. 
Carleton  &  Co.,  of  New  York,  which,  in  every  respect,  com- 
pletely satisfies  the  popular  demand.  —  It  is  known  as 

"Carleton's  New  Illustrated  Edition." 

COMPLETE  IN  15  VOLUMES. 

The  size  and  form  is  most  convenient  for  holding,  —  the  type  is 
entirely  new,  and  of  a  clear  and  open  character  that  has  received 
the  approval  of  the  reading  community  in  other  works. 

The  illustrations  a-e  by  the  original  artists  chosen  by  Charles 
Dickens  himself  —  and  the  paper,  printing,  and  binding  are  of  an 
attractive  and  substantial  character. 

This  beautiful  new  edition  is  complete  in  15  volumes  —  at  the 
extremely  reasonable  price  of  $1.50  per  volume,  as  follows  :  — 

I.—  PICKWICK  PAPERS  AND  CATALOGUE. 

2.  —  OLIVER  TWIST.—  UNCOMMERCIAL  TRAVELLER. 

3.  —  DAVID  COPPERFIELD. 

4.  —  GREAT  EXPECTATIONS.—  ITALY  AND  AMERICA, 

5.  —  DOMBEY  AND  SON. 

6.—  BAR  NAB  Y  RUDGE  AND  EDWIN  DROOD. 
7.  —  NICHOLAS  NICKLEBY. 
8.—  CURIOSITY  SHOP  AND  MISCELLANEOUS. 
9.—  BLEAK  HOUSE. 
10.—  LITTLE  DORRIT. 

11.  —  MARTIN  CHUZZLKWTT. 

12.  —  OUR  MUTUAL  FRIEND. 

13.  —  CHRISTMAS  BOOKS.—  TALK  OF  TWO  CITIES. 

14.  —  SKETCHES  BY  BOZ  AND  HARD  TIMES. 

15.  —  CHILD'S  ENGLAND  AND  MISCELLANEOUS. 

The  first  volume—  Pickwick  Papers  —  contains  an  alphabetical 
catalogue  of  a'l  of  Charles  Dickens'  writings,  with  their  exact 
positions  in  the  volumes. 

This  edition  is  sold  by  Booksellers,  everywhere—  and  einglf 
ipecimen  copies  will  be  forwarded  by  mail,  postage  free,  on  re- 
ceipt of  price,  $1.50,  by 

G.  W.  CARLETON  A  CO.,  Publishers, 

Madison  Square,  New  York. 


MRS.  MARY  J.  HOLMES-  WORKS. 


TKMPEST  AND  SUNSHINE. 

ENGLISH   ORPHANS. 

HOMESTEAD  ON  HILLSIDE. 

•I.1..XA    RIVERS. 

MEADOW   BROOK. 

DORA    !•: 

COUSIN   MAUDE. 

MARIAN    GREY. 

EDITH    LYLE. 

DAISY  THORNTON.    (Nm>). 


DARKNESS  AND  DAYLIGHT. 

HUGH   WORTHINGTON. 

CAMERON    I'RIDK 

ROSE  MATHER. 

ETHELYN'S   MISTAKE. 

MILLS  ANK. 

EDNA   15ROWNING. 

WEST  LAWN. 

MILDRED. 

FORREST  HOUSE.      (Kev>).  ' 


OPINIONS    OF    THE    PRESS. 

"Mrs.  Holmes'  stories  are  universally  read.  Her  admirers  are  numberless. 
She  is  in  many  respects  without  a  rival  in  the  world  of  fiction.  Her  characters  are 
always  life-like,  and  she  makes  them  talk  and  act  like  human  beings,  subject  to  the 
tarn*  emotions,  swayed  by  the  same  passions,  and  actuated  by  the  same  motive* 
which  arc  comm  >n  among  men  and  women  of  every  day  existence.  Mrs.  Hulmet 
is  very  happy  in  portraying  domestic  life.  Old  and  young  peruse  her  stories 
with  great  delight  for  she  writes  in  a  style  that  all  can  comprehend." — .Veiv 
York  Weekly. 

The  North  American  Review,  vol.  81,  page  557,  snys  of  Mrs.  Mary  J. 
Homes'  novel,  "English  Orphans  ":—"  With  this  novel  of  Mrs.  Holmes'  we  have 
been  charmed,  and  so  have  a  pretty  numerous  circle  of  discriminating  readers  to 
whom  we  have  lent  it  The  characterization  is  exquisite,  especially  so  far  as 
concerns  rural  an,',  vill  i  :e  life,  of  which  there  are  !»>me  pictures  that  deserve  to 
be  hung  >ip  in  perpetual  memory  of  types  of  humani-y  fast  becoming  extinct.  'Die 
di.ilipues  ar«  generally  br.ef,  pointed,  and  appropriate.  The  plot  seems  simple, 
so  easily  and  naturally  is  it  developed  and  consummated.  Moreover,  the  story 
thus  gracefully  constructed  and  written,  inculcates  without  obtruding,  not  only 
pure  Christian  morality  in  general,  bur,  with  especial  point  and  powir,  the  depen- 
dence of  true  success  on  character,  and  of  true  respectability  on  merit.1' 

"Mrs.  Holmei'  stories  are  all  of  a  domestic  character,  and  their  interest,  there- 
fore, is  not  so  intense  as  if  they  were  more  highly  seasoned  with  sensationalism, 
but  it  is  of  a  healthy  and  abiding  character.  Almost  any  new  book  which  her 
publisher  mi^ht  choose  to  announce  from  her  pen  would  get  an  immediate  and 
general  reading.  The  interest  in  her  tales  begins  at  once,  and  is  maintained  to 
the  close.  Her  sentiments  are  so  sound,  her  sympathies  so  warm  and  ready, 
ami  l.er  knowledge  of  manners,  character,  and  the  varied  incidents  of  ordinary 
life  is  so  thorough,  that  she  would  find  it  difficult  to  write  any  other  than  an 
excslL-nt  talc  if  she  were  to  try  it." — Batten  Banner. 


J3ET"  The  volumes  are  all  handsomely  printed  and  bound  in  cloth,  sold  ever^ 
i  sent  by  mail,  postage  free^  on  receipt  of  price  [§1.50  each],  by 

G.   W.   CARLETON  &  CO.,  Publishers, 

Madison  Square,  New    York. 


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